


Waiting in the Wings

by benicemurphy



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Amputation, Childhood Friends, Eventual Smut, FWB/non-romantic james/keith, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, James Griffin/Ryan Kinkade - Freeform, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Hunk/Romelle (Voltron), Pining Keith (Voltron), Sharing a Bed, Shiro (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Shiro's Illness, Slow Burn, Temporary Adam/Shiro, Temporary James Griffin/Keith, Underage Drinking, Virgin Keith (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:55:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 46,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25820191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benicemurphy/pseuds/benicemurphy
Summary: He wants to tell Shiro how much he loves him, how much he adores hearing Shiro talk about his dad like this, how much it fills his heart that Shiro can just casually answer his mom’s phone calls like he’s already part of the family.Keith loves him. He loves himso much; he’s been in love with him since he was old enough to know what love is, and no matter how many other men get in the way, he will never,everstop loving Shiro, because Shiro is the best person on the planet, and he has always loved Keith more than Keith ever felt he deserved.Maybe it’s selfish to keep hoping for more, since Shiro’s friendship has been the light in his life for so long; and it’s true that he’d be happy if that’s all they ever were, but right here, right now, Keith longs to make Shiro a part of his family, officially and forever.
Relationships: James Griffin & Keith (Voltron), Keith & Shiro (Voltron), Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 151
Kudos: 253





	1. Decline

**Author's Note:**

> I think it's safe to say after nearly 6 months of working on this thing, this fic is my baby. It's entirely, 100% self-indulgent, and I'm immensely proud of it.
> 
> That being said, here are some things I need to say: If you don't like the idea of Keith and James getting past their differences, becoming friends, and sucking face for a while, this fic isn't for you.
> 
> There will also be other mentions of both Keith and Shiro going on dates with people who aren't each other, though nothing overtly romantic or sexual will occur between any pairings that have not been listed in the tags.
> 
> Please enjoy! And if you don't... I don't really need to know.
> 
> <3 <3 <3

In all of Keith’s young life, he’s never felt heartbreak before, so he’s not ready for it when Shiro announces that he thinks he has a boyfriend.

Shiro is thirteen, and Keith is eleven, and the only reason they’re in the same grade is because Keith skipped a grade and Shiro had to repeat the first grade because he was out sick for too long and they wouldn’t let him move forward.

Shiro is thirteen, and his new boyfriend, Adam, is fourteen, and Keith thinks his world might just fall apart when Shiro starts holding Adam’s hand walking between classes while Keith wraps his arms around the textbook that’s too big to fit inside his backpack with all the others.

For a long time, it had just been Keith-and-Shiro. Shiro was the sickly kid that everyone was a little nervous to be around, and no one’s parents ever made them hang out with him. Keith was too young, and too smart, and too weird for anyone to bother even trying, and their parents always looked at him sideways when he showed up at school with scraped knees and scraped palms and dirt on his cheek from playing in the backyard before school; it didn’t matter that he was a pretty happy kid — he had two parents (still does), a big dog, and Shiro to make sure he stayed that way — the other kids never liked him. But Shiro always treated him like he was worth his weight in gold.

Now, it’s Shiro-and-Adam, and sometimes Keith. They still have to sit with their own class at lunch time, so Keith gets Shiro to himself for thirty minutes a day, but after school Shiro goes off to hold hands with Adam behind one of the pillars where the Parent Pick-Up volunteer of the day won’t see them.

He says Keith is welcome to join, but Keith doesn’t like the sick feeling he gets when he has to listen to them talk all quietly to each other.

It’s okay for now— Keith is eleven, and even though he knows he likes Shiro, he doesn’t really _get_ relationships. It seems weird to hang around with someone all day, and then go home and spend all night on the phone with them, just to wake up the next day and do it all again.

He tells his mom as much when she asks him what’s wrong the first day Shiro tells him about Adam, and he tells his dad the same when he asks the same question a month later and Shiro and Adam are still going strong.

They both tell him the same thing: It’s just young love. They don’t know what they want yet. It’s sweet that they make each other happy, but it won’t last forever. They have so many years ahead of them to grow into who they are, and most people don’t grow up the same way, no matter how much they want to.

It comforts Keith very little. If Shiro and Adam can grow apart, then surely so can Shiro and Keith. He doesn’t tell his parents that, though, because he loves them and he knows they’re trying to help.

Still, as the years go by, he can’t help but wonder what else his parents have been wrong about.

____________________

Heartbreak is a bitter, crushing thing. It cracks through his chest, down his arms and legs to the tips of his fingers and toes, when Shiro admits that he wants to spend his life with Adam.

They’ve been together for more than four years now. Adam is going to graduate soon, and though Shiro still has two more years of high school, they’re talking about how they’re going to make it work. Shiro will visit Adam at the prestigious college he got into at least once a month. He’d go every weekend, but it’s four hours away and his parents won’t let him spend that much time in the car since he’s only had his license for just over a year.

Keith’s gotten very used to their relationship. Sometimes they bicker over dumb stuff, and Keith can’t help but roll his eyes and think, _I’d never get mad at you over something like that_. Sometimes, though, they spend all morning kissing in the hallway next to the band room, where teachers don’t usually look, and Keith just doodles in his sketchbook and tries not to listen. When the bell rings, he mumbles a quick goodbye and gets a text from Shiro later that just says, _Where’d you run off to so fast?_

Those days he can’t help but wonder why he’s never bothered to make new friends. He loves Shiro — he’s fifteen and he now knows exactly what kind of love he feels — but sometimes he wonders what it would be like not to be hopelessly in love with his best friend, who is hopelessly in love with his boyfriend.

The night of Adam’s graduation, Shiro and Keith are both invited to a party. Keith has been a pretty good kid for most of his life. Aside from a quick temper and a distaste for authority that his parents have _no idea where he got it from, honestly_ , he hasn’t had any major problems. He does well in school, never had the urge to try drugs, and only drank that one time at Shiro’s house when his parents were out of town and they were curious. They had gotten just drunk enough to feel giggly and play several uncoordinated rounds of Super Smash Bros before passing out on a pile of pillows in the basement game room.

Keith agrees to go, because it’s important to Shiro. Although he hasn’t really been to any _real_ parties (only the birthday parties that the cool parents let kids have in their backyards), he’s not particularly averse to the idea of going, either.

Adam picks them both up from Shiro’s house. Shiro’s parents and Keith’s parents know they’re going, and they know there will be alcohol, but all three of them have promised not to drink (or at the very least, to drink responsibly and call if they need a ride or anyone gets into trouble).

An hour and a half into the party, Keith has only had half a cup of lukewarm beer that he eventually abandoned for a full cup of Sprite, and Shiro and Adam are nowhere to be found.

It’s James Griffin that finds him standing on the wall by himself.

“Keith.”

“Griffin.”

Griffin slumps against the wall beside him, quiet for a few moment as he drinks whatever concoction is in his cup.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” he says finally.

Keith scoffs. “Thinking about me, Griffin?”

Griffin scowls, petulant, and shrugs as if trying to make the words roll off his shoulders. “No,” he says, again, petulant. “Just didn’t take you for the partying type.”

It’s Keith’s turn to shrug. “I’m not.” At James’ upturned eyebrow, he rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his Sprite. “Shiro asked me to come.”

James huffs a short laugh that, to Keith, sounds completely humorless. He drops his eyes but makes no other move. “Figures,” he mutters.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Keith demands. People always do this. They act like they _know_ Keith, and they _don’t_.

Griffin rolls his eyes right back. “Nothing. Forget it.”

Keith won’t forget it. “He’s my best friend.” He doesn’t know why he feels the need to defend himself— doesn’t even know what he’s defending himself against.

“I know,” Griffin says innocently. It doesn’t sit well with Keith.

“So if you know, then okay. We’re friends, he asked me to come, I’m here. End of story.”

“And where’s he?” Griffin asks, eyes boring into Keith as he makes the sort of eye contact they’ve never had before. It feels charged, uncomfortable, like he _knows_ something and Keith isn’t in on it.

“Around,” Keith snarks. He’s had enough of this. “See ya.” He walks off without another word.

He’s not even sure where he’s going. Everyone is inside somewhere; Keith knows because he’d looked for Shiro everywhere else, including the front and back yards, before taking his place against the wall. Going outside to sit by himself seems pretty lame and pretty counter to the point of being at a party, but if he stays inside, he risks Griffin finding him and making more rude insinuations.

There’s a stone bench in the front yard. Pretty much everyone who’s coming to the party has arrived by now, so the only people he really sees are the ones stumbling out ready to leave, and none of them are interested in conversation with some kid they most likely don’t even know.

It takes another half hour before Shiro finds him. His face is pink and his hair is ruffled in a way it typically isn’t — Shiro likes to be neat and tidy. It’s why he keeps it cut so short. He looks happy, which is nice. Keith can’t help but smile when he sees Shiro beaming like that. It makes him consider forgiving him instantly for ditching him.

“Hey,” he breathes when he plops onto the bench beside Keith. “I was looking for you.”

Keith shrugs, still smiling helplessly at his best friend. He’d been tense before, but now he feels okay. “You found me.”

“Yeah,” Shiro says. “Sorry for disappearing on you. I didn’t plan it, I swear, it’s just, uh...” He trails off, shy and uncertain. Keith has only seen this expression on his face maybe twice before. He can practically feel his stomach acid churning as he begins to connect the dots.

He swallows hard. Shiro wants to tell him something. Keith has to let him. “What?” he croaks, and hopes it doesn’t sound as panicked as he feels.

“Well, um. Just, you know Adam graduated today.”

Obviously. It’s why they’re here. Keith lifts an eyebrow at him, an indication to go on.

“Right, of course. And he got into one of the best Ivy League schools in the country. It’s pretty amazing. He’s gonna be pretty far away, but I’m really proud of him.”

This isn’t exactly what Keith expected. So, what? They had disappeared to talk about Adam’s plans? That makes sense, he guesses, though he’s not sure why Shiro is so happy about it.

“Shiro,” Keith insists.

“Right. Okay. Um. It’s just...” Shiro looks up at him then, his big eyes earnest and shining, and _god_ , he looks so _happy_ , Keith’s heart twists in pleasure and pain. “We had sex.”

Shiro can read him. That’s Keith’s first thought when he hears those words out of Shiro’s mouth. Shiro can read him, so he can’t give away the wrenching heartbreak he feels. It’s not fair. Shiro isn’t his — never has been, never will be — and he has no right to feel so torn apart by the idea of him and Adam having sex. They’ve been together forever, and Keith has witnessed from the very beginning how head-over-heels in love they are. Especially Shiro. He loves so hard, and it’s so obvious. So he makes a conscious effort to soften his eyes and his brow. He forces himself to smile as genuinely as he can, reaches over to squeeze Shiro’s hand.

“I’m so happy for you,” he says. The lie tastes like bile.

“Thanks, Keith.” Shiro squeezes back. “I’m happy for me, too. And thanks, you know, for being here for me all the time. I know I haven’t always been the best friend to you.”

It’s not a lie and he doesn’t have to pretend at all this time when he says, “You have _always_ been the best friend to me. You’re the best person, Shiro. You deserve all the happiness in the world.”

And that much is true. Keith would tear himself apart a thousand times for Shiro’s happiness. What Keith feels doesn’t matter as long as he can always see that giddy smile on Shiro’s beautiful face.

“Thanks, Keith,” Shiro whispers again, more quietly this time as he pulls Keith in for a tight hug. “You too. You deserve so much happiness.”

Keith can’t answer around the lump in his throat, too concentrated on not thinking about how his happiness is right here in his arms, but he can never have it.

“Alright. Let’s head back inside, yeah?” Shiro stands and offers a hand to Keith, which Keith takes and allows himself to be hauled up. “Need a drink?”

“Yeah,” Keith answers automatically. Yeah, he needs a fucking drink if he’s gonna make it through this.

Adam is inside the door waiting for Shiro. He looks happy, too, as he winds his fingers between Shiro’s and kisses him right on the mouth. “Everything okay?” he asks. His eyes meet Keith’s briefly, and Keith feels like he’s being searched, though maybe he’s just being paranoid. Adam can’t read him like Shiro can.

“Everything is _amazing_ ,” Shiro coos. Keith nods, fixing the smile on his face once more.

“Just heading inside for a drink,” he mumbles. Adam looks at him for a moment longer and then smiles back.

“Alright then. Let’s celebrate!”

And _celebrate_ , Keith does. He celebrates first with a cup of the jungle juice he’d seen Griffin sipping, and then he celebrates with a rum and Coke that Adam puts into his hand, and then he celebrates with another jungle juice, just for the hell of it.

“Hey, slow down,” someone says, god-knows how long later.

“I’m fine,” Keith says. He doesn’t _think_ he’s slurring, so he’s definitely good. For sure.

“Keith,” the voice says again. Keith recognizes it as Griffin. Again.

“ _Ugh_ , what do you _want_ , Griffin?” he groans.

“Come on, let’s sit down.”

Griffin takes him by the arm. Keith yanks it back, sloshing the nearly-full cup of battery acid. Some of it gets on his good shirt, but he doesn’t care.

“ _Keith_.”

Keith does _not_ feel like being scolded by fucking _James Griffin_.

“ _Griffin_ ,” he growls.

They’re at a standoff. Keith isn’t planning on giving in to whatever Griffin wants him to do, and Griffin obviously isn’t planning on shutting the fuck up and leaving Keith the fuck alone.

He could stand there all night refusing to cooperate. He’s very stubborn. He would, too, if he hadn’t made the fatal mistake of looking over Griffin’s shoulder to see Shiro lip-locked with Adam and pressing him against the wall.

Maybe he loses control of his face or something, because Griffin turns to see what Keith is seeing. It’s too late for Keith to pretend he was looking at anything else, so he just sets his gaze back on Griffin and dares him with his eyes to say something about it.

“Okay,” Griffin says, more calmly now as his shoulders slump and he loses his fierce demeanor. “I feel like taking a walk. Will you come with me?”

Keith tries to scoff, but it comes out a little choked. “Why should I?”

“I could use the company,” James says. “It’s dark out. Don’t wanna get lost or whatever.”

It’s a flimsy excuse, and Keith knows it, but he’s aware enough to appreciate the gesture. Even if Griffin is still a huge tool.

He takes one last look at Shiro and Adam and shrugs. “Fine,” he mutters. “Let’s go.” He deposits his drink on a random surface and leaves it. He doesn’t even like it.

On their way out the front door, Shiro catches his hand from behind. “Where are you going?” he asks. He doesn’t demand — never — just cares.

“Just taking a walk,” Keith says, probably too chipper as he puts up a front. “I’ll be back.”

Shiro’s brows furrow. “Alone?”

“I’m going, too,” Griffin pipes up from the other side of the doorway. “We won’t be gone long. Just need some fresh air.”

Shiro looks between the two of them. Keith knows it doesn’t make any sense to him; Keith and James Griffin have never gotten along, and now they’re going off to hang out one-on-one?

“It’s fine, Shiro. Just feeling a little woozy. I’ll be fine.”

Shiro looks like he’s about to reach out or say something, but he stops himself short and instead implores, “Be careful, okay? Find me when you come back. Or I can come with you,” he hastily adds.

“Nah, it’s fine. Enjoy the party. Celebrate Adam’s big day with him. I’ll be back soon.”

Finally, Shiro seems to relax, and his face softens again. “Alright. See you soon.”

“See you soon,” Keith echoes.

When they’re outside, Griffin makes a show of rolling his eyes at the display. “You two are gross,” he says.

“We’re friends,” Keith says for the millionth time.

“Whatever,” Griffin says.

“Fucking _drop it_ , Griffin. We’re nothing, got it? So shut the fuck up.”

Griffin drops it. After a tense silence, he says, “Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Whatever,” Keith mumbles.

They continue to walk in silence. The conversation has left Keith raw. He’d tried to outrun it, make himself forget it, but even if he’s a lightweight, two and a half drinks isn’t enough to forget anything.

“Can I ask you something?” Griffin asks.

“Sure,” Keith shrugs. “As long as it’s not about Shiro.”

“It’s not,” Griffin assures. Keith shrugs again. “Just, um. Are you gay?”

Keith’s head whips up from where he’d been staring at his shoes as he kicks a rock down the street. He glares. “Why? Wanna bully me for that, too?”

“What? No!” James throws his hands up in front of him in a defensive gesture. “No, I— wait, you think I bully you?”

Keith stops short. He feels his mouth drop open. The _nerve_ of this guy. “You think you _don’t_?”

Griffin’s face falls, as if he’s legitimately shocked and hurt by the idea that he could _ever_ be a bully.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Griffin? You’ve been torturing me since the fourth grade.”

“What?” Griffin has stopped too. They’re both stopped, in the middle of the road, sometime past midnight probably, staring at each other like a couple of morons.

“You used to tell the teacher I needed special attention because my parents didn’t love me.”

“I— I said that?”

“ _Yeah_ , asshole. And when we were in middle school, you told Lotor Sincline that I had a boner in class, and Lance McLain overheard and told the whole grade.”

Griffin looks suitably guilty and abashed. “Well... did you?” he has the nerve to ask.

Keith barks out a startled laugh. “No, jerk. I had a dry erase marker in my pocket.” He starts walking again, tired of standing in one place. He shoves his hands in his pockets, the picture of nonchalance. “Besides, that was the same day Shiro started dating Adam. So no. I didn’t.”

“Fuck,” Griffin sighs and follows. “I’m really sorry, Keith. I didn’t realize I was such a jerk.”

“Yeah. Maybe you can apologize to my parents one day, too. Nobody wanted to be my friend anyway, but especially after their parents heard I apparently had a bad home life and told them they _couldn’t_.”

“I will,” Griffin says with conviction. Keith looks up at him.

“What?”

“I’ll apologize to your parents, if you’ll let me. That was a really shitty thing to do. Even if I was just a dumb kid, I’m really sorry. That must have been hard for all of you.”

Keith pauses. “Yeah,” he relents. “It was. They wondered for a long time if they were bad parents. Especially my mom.”

“I’ll come over tomorrow and apologize face-to-face,” Griffin states. At Keith’s expression of disbelief, he adds, “If that’s okay with you. I don’t actually know where you live, so I’d need your address...”

Keith chuckles under his breath. “Yeah, sure.” He has no faith that Griffin will do any such thing, but he’ll humor him for now. “I’ll text it to you. Put in your number.” He hands his phone over and lets Griffin open a new message to himself. Keith sends his address to the unsaved number and hopes he won’t regret it someday when Griffin decides to start being a prick again.

“I’m coming over,” he insists. “I know you don’t believe me, but I’ll be there, bright and early tomorrow morning.”

“Don’t wake me up, Griffin. I’m planning on sleeping until one.”

“ _One?_ In the afternoon?!”

“God, you’re such a dweeb,” Keith laughs. This time it feels genuine. “Live a little. Sleep past seven-thirty. It’ll be good for you.”

Griffin rolls his eyes but smirks back. “Fine. I’ll be there at nine.”

They turn around not long after and start heading back to the house. Turns out, the walk really did Keith some good. He’s a little more sober, and though still heartbroken, doesn’t feel like he wants to rip his heart out of his chest.

“So you never answered my question,” Griffin prompts.

“What question?”

“You know. About, um. Are— are you...?”

“Oh,” Keith says as he catches on. He feels himself tense, but tries to put on his best air of nonchalance. “You should know. You’re the one who’s been making rude and inappropriate innuendo about me and my best friend all night.”

Keith slides Griffin a look out of the corner of his eye. Griffin at least has the decency to flush at the accusation. “I’m sorry, again, it’s just—”

Keith waits. They may have reached some kind of weird truce tonight, but he’s not gonna let Griffin get away with anything that easily.

“It’s just that— ugh, are you seriously gonna make me spell it out for you?!”

“Yep.” Keith stops and crosses his arms. He gestures to the house, which is in sight. They can hear the faint thump of the bass from here. “If you’ve got something to say, spit it out now.”

Griffin runs frustrated fingers through his hair. He’s so much twitchier than Keith’s ever seen him. Normally he’s the picture of poise and confidence— it’s always pissed Keith off how it looks like nothing ever bothers him.

Now, the way he paces and ruffles his own hair and smoothes it back down again, he seems so much more human.

“ _Ugghhhh_ ,” Griffin groans. “Can’t you just— can’t you just figure it out for yourself?”

Keith could, probably, but he takes a twisted kind of pleasure in watching Griffin squirm like this. “Nuh uh,” he says. “You know me. Anti-social Keith. I don’t understand anything. You’re gonna have to tell me.”

Griffin gapes at him like he can’t believe his ears. “You’re such a dick,” he breathes.

Keith laughs. “Come on, we don’t have all night. Say it if you’re gonna say it.”

Griffin pauses for a minute, expression searching. “I’ve never heard you laugh this much,” he says.

“Maybe I’m just drunk,” Keith retorts.

“Maybe. It’s still nice, though.”

Keith looks at him, then. The way Griffin is looking at him, now... he thinks he might know what’s coming next. He’s intrigued, but also terrified.

“Why?” Keith asks. He hears the way his own voice has gone soft. He takes an unconscious step forward.

“Because,” Griffin says, mirroring the movement. “You have a nice laugh. And a nice smile.”

“Oh. Thanks.” He feels the blush creep up his face. He can’t remember the last time someone made him blush. Maybe never.

“I guess I’m just trying to say... I’m sorry I’ve been such a jerk, and if you’ll forgive me, I hope we can be friends. And also you’re really hot.”

All Keith can do is blink. His mind has gone fuzzy; message _does not compute_. “You think I’m hot?”

Griffin just nods.

“Oh, okay. That’s cool.”

They stand there, just blinking at each other for a while, the relative silence only broken when the front door of the house slams open and three extremely drunk girls stumble out to a raucous chorus of some pop song that’s at least ten years old.

“‘That’s cool?’” Griffin asks. “Is that it?”

Keith’s heart is pounding. He’s not sure what to do here; it’s completely uncharted territory. No one has ever been _attracted_ to him before— at least, not that he knows of.

“So what, you like, _like_ like me or something?” he blurts.

“I mean—” James shifts awkwardly from one foot to another. “I don’t know if I’d go _that_ far. You’re still kind of a dick.”

“Likewise,” Keith interjects.

“But, I mean, there aren’t that many gay guys at our school— at least, not that many that are out, or whatever.”

There’s a pause in which Keith digests this. Briefly, he wonders how long they’ve been gone and how the hell they got to this point.

“So you wanna date me because it’s convenient?”

“What— no! I don’t want to date you! Wait, shit, that sounded bad. I don’t _not want_ to date you. I just mean like, I’m not asking you out or anything. I’m just saying, you know, if you ever want to, like, blow off some steam or whatever...”

Keith lets the offer sink in. He’s never thought about having anything with anyone other than Shiro before. But Shiro... Shiro is in love with his boyfriend of four years. Shiro and his boyfriend just had sex at a house party, and while Keith had known this day was coming for a long time, he hadn’t expected to _be there_ , and they’re going to stay together while Adam goes to college, they’ll probably get married, and Shiro has never looked at Keith the way Griffin is looking at him now, _never_ , and—

“Oh, what the hell,” he mumbles, and closes the distance between them.

Griffin makes a noise of surprise but catches on quickly. The kiss is messy and inexperienced. Keith has certainly never done this before, and he wonders if maybe Griffin hasn’t, either. In the back of his mind, he finds himself thinking, _This is my first kiss. I’m having my first kiss with James Griffin_. And it hurts a little, because it’s only then that he realizes some tiny, naive part of him had hoped he’d get to have his first kiss with Shiro, somehow, after all.

“Should we go somewhere more private?” James asks when they pull away panting. Keith wipes his mouth, now wet with Griffin’s spit.

“I’m not gonna fuck you, Griffin,” he spits.

“No!” he backpedals. “I just meant, like, not the middle of the street.”

Keith barely spares it another thought. Being wanted feels good, _really_ good, and he’s going to chase this feeling for as long as he can. He shrugs. “Sure.”

They finally make it back to the house, but they don’t go inside. Instead, they head to the backyard, which has been empty all night. There, Griffin backs him up against the side of the house and leans in for another kiss.

It starts off slowly this time. Keith can feel his heartbeat between his breaths, can feel Griffin pant against his lips as they come together and pull apart, again and again and again. When Griffin’s tongue slides back inside his mouth, he feels his own breath stutter around a quiet noise he’s never heard himself make before. He feels himself relax the longer it goes on; they’re feeding off of each other, learning how this is supposed to go together, and he lets himself grab Griffin by the waist and pull him closer, until he’s completely pressed against the rough brick behind him.

At some point, Griffin’s hand snakes its way under the hem of his shirt, where his fingers rub absently against Keith’s skin. It makes Keith shiver.

He’s fifteen and _finally_ knows what this feels like.

They kiss for what feels like a long time. By the time they slow down, and eventually stop, Keith feels lightheaded — whether it’s from the feeling of being kissed or just a lack of oxygen, he doesn’t know.

Griffin still stands in front of him, his hand still up Keith’s shirt, and doesn’t say anything for a long time.

Finally, he asks, “Was that okay?”

Keith nods, finding it hard to think or speak or breathe. “Good,” he says, because it’s all he can manage.

“Okay. Cool,” Griffin says. He takes a step back, then leans forward one more time and kisses Keith again. “Last one,” he says, then backs away completely.

Keith makes his way to the back door on shaky legs. He pauses to steady himself, then turns, still not able to let Griffin get away with anything, and says, “Don’t show up before noon.”

Griffin grins, and Keith realizes that he has a really nice smile, too.

Inside the house, the party has definitely wound down. Shiro is sitting on the couch next to Adam, nursing what looks like just a cup of water. The music is mellower; there are a few people clinging to each other on the makeshift dance floor, not dancing so much as lazily swaying, and one guy is passed out on a big squishy lounge chair in the corner.

“Keith!” Shiro calls as soon as he sees him. “I was getting worried. Are you okay?”

All at once, the night he’s just had washes over him. He feels different, like he’s changed, somehow, and he wonders if Shiro feels that way now, too.

“I’m fine,” Keith says. He’s not sure if he is, but it’s the best answer he’s got. “Ready to go?”

Shiro nods and gestures to Adam.

“Is he okay to drive?” Keith asks.

“I stopped drinking a few hours ago,” Adam answers. “Stone cold sober.”

And Keith trusts him, because for all of the things Adam is, irresponsible isn’t one of them.

“Alright. I’m ready.”

“Let’s go, then.”

They ride together in silence back to Shiro’s house. The plan was always for Keith to stay the night there after the party, so his parents don’t expect him home and have locked up and gone to sleep hours ago.

That was the plan when they left what feels like a lifetime ago, but that was before Shiro and Adam were having sex.

Usually, they’d all take the floor when the three of them spent the night together, and Keith very rarely felt left out or like he was intruding on their private time together. This time, though, Shiro and Adam exchange a loaded look before silently climbing into the bed together, snuggled close.

When he hears their breathing even out, Keith excuses himself to the couch in the family room. He’ll call his mom when he wakes up to come get him, so as not to bother them.

In the morning, when he and his mom pull up to their home just after 10:45, James Griffin is standing on the porch waiting for them.

____________________

Keith learns true fear the day Shiro gets into an accident. It is acute and visceral, intense in a way that makes him feel like he’s collapsing in on himself, like a dying star.

It happens while Shiro is driving to see Adam one weekend. Adam has been away for eight months, and Shiro has been diligent about making it up to see him once a month, as promised. He’s offered to bring Keith with him, but Keith doesn’t see a world in which he wants to put himself through that. He may be in love with Shiro, but he’s not willing to watch him sleep with his boyfriend. He has enough self-preservation for that, at least, if nothing else.

Keith gets a call three hours after Shiro is supposed to have arrived at Adam’s. He’s been trying not to worry; sometimes Shiro just forgets to text for a little while because he’s so excited to see his boyfriend after a month without him. It’s fine... Three hours is a little long, though.

So it’s three hours without a text when Keith gets a phone call from his mother.

“You need to go to the hospital.”

“What? What’s going on?” Keith’s heart starts beating in triple-time. “Is it Dad? Was he hurt at work?”

“No, God, no. Keith, listen to me. You need to stay calm. In fact— stay where you are. I’m coming to get you.”

He hears the sound of jangling keys, and the front door, then the car door, opening and closing.

“I’m— Mom, what is it? What’s going on?”

Beside him, Griffin puts down his controller and gets Keith’s attention by putting his hand on his leg. “Everything okay?”

“I’m on my way. Do not go anywhere, do you hear me? Keith?”

“Tell me what’s happening!”

His mom takes a deep breath. The clicking of the blinker fills the silence. “It’s Shiro,” she says.

Keith thinks he might black out.

“Keith?” It’s Griffin speaking again. “Hey, are you okay?”

Somehow, his phone has landed on his lap. His mother’s voice is distant as he hears her call for Griffin. Griffin picks up the phone.

“Hello? Mrs. Kogane?”

Keith doesn’t hear anymore of his mom’s side of the conversation, just Griffin saying, “Oh, no. Okay. Yes, no problem. Okay, bye.”

Griffin hangs up the phone after that and puts it in Keith’s hand.

“I don’t know if I’m the right person to tell you, but I think you should know before you get there. Your mom said Shiro was in an accident. He was driving and the car ran off the road and flipped. He’s in the hospital, and he’s stable, but they’re not sure what happened yet. She’s bringing you to see him.”

Keith looks up to see Griffin staring at him.

“What?” he asks.

“Did you hear what I said?”

The words register slowly. Keith nods. Griffin fidgets with his fingers for a few moments while they wait for Keith’s mom to arrive. When they hear her car pull up, Keith rises to go meet her at the door.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Griffin asks.

Keith shakes his head. “I’m fine.”

Griffin opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again, then finally settles on, “Text me, if you want.”

Keith just nods and joins his mom for the thirty minute drive to the nearest hospital, where Shiro was taken in an ambulance hours before.

“What happened?” he asks.

She keeps her eyes on the road. The radio isn’t playing. It’s creepy. “I’m not sure,” she answers. “I don’t have much information, but they told me he’s okay and that you’ll be able to see him.”

Keith nods. Those are the two most important things.

They have to park in visitor parking and walk all the way around the hospital to get to Shiro’s wing. It’s the longest walk of Keith’s life. His mind hasn’t been much more than a constant buzzing noise since he picked up the phone. He barely remembers what Griffin said to him before he left.

Shiro’s dad is in the waiting room when they walk in. His mom must be with Shiro, which gives Keith some relief.

“Keith,” Mr. Shirogane says. “Krolia. Thank you for coming. Takashi will be happy to see you.” The last part is directed at Keith.

Keith tries to smile, but it feels like an ugly grimace.

“He’s okay, Keith.”

Krolia puts her arm around Keith’s shoulder and pulls him close. It chokes him up a little, but he holds it in; it’s stupid to cry when he’s already been told repeatedly that everything is fine.

“So, what happened?” she asks.

“Let’s go see Takashi,” Mr. Shirogane says. “I’ll tell you on the way.” He smiles reassuringly at Keith and claps him on the shoulder, then leads the way to Shiro’s room.

Although Keith doesn’t quite get everything that Mr. Shirogane says, he gets the important bits. Apparently, Shiro had a severe muscle spasm while he was driving and wasn’t able to get it under control before the car ran off the road. It’s a complication of his disease, which hasn’t affected him too much until now, except for the time he missed in elementary school. It’s with horrible, urgent clarity that Keith finally realizes how lucky they all are that Shiro is still here.

“Keith?”

Shiro’s voice brings him back to the present — the beautiful, amazing present, where Shiro is sitting up and looking at him from his hospital bed with a silly little gown on and only some bruises and scratches to show for all of this.

“Oh, Keith, hey, it’s okay! I’m okay.” He’s laughing a little through his concern, and Keith is moving toward him and sobbing into his shoulder before he even realizes he’s been crying. “I’m okay,” Shiro says, rubbing circles into Keith’s back. “Everything is okay.”

“Don’t _ever_ do that again,” Keith demands. He levels him with his best glare, which, judging by the sappy look Shiro is giving him, is not very effective.

“I won’t,” he vows. His left hand comes up to smooth Keith’s soggy bangs out of his eyes. “I promise I won’t scare you again.”

Keith sniffs. “Good.”

They lapse into silence while Keith finishes getting himself back together. At some point, the parents must have snuck out.

There’s a big, fat, giant elephant in the room, and Keith isn’t sure how to approach it. It’s several elephants, actually, and one of them is that Shiro has barely moved his right arm since Keith showed up.

Shiro can read him, though, as he has always been able to do, and dives right in.

“My right arm is the one that spasmed. It got caught in the steering wheel and I couldn’t get the car back on the road. It still hurts a bit. But the good news is that they’re fitting me for these really cool bracelets that’ll help with muscle stimulation.”

“So what does that mean?” Keith asks.

“Well,” Shiro shifts, making better space for Keith to sit comfortably on the bed instead of basically in Shiro’s lap. “I’m not allowed to drive again until I get the bracelets. Then I’ll have to go through some testing to make sure they work, and then I’ll have a trial period where I can’t drive until we’re sure the bracelets are doing their jobs.”

“But you’re gonna be okay?”

“I _am_ okay,” Shiro corrects. “Everything is fine. It’s the natural progression of the disease. The doctors are well-equipped to take care of me. We’re not going to have to worry about this for a long time. It’ll just take some getting used to.”

Keith stares at Shiro, utterly amazed by his best friend. “How can you be so calm about all of this?”

Shiro shrugs. “I’ve been told for most of my life what to expect as I get older. At a certain point, I have to stop being angry and just accept what’s happening. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop doing the things I want to do. I can’t let something I can’t control control me instead.”

“You’ve never been angry,” Keith says.

“I have.” Shiro lifts his right arm and makes a show of flexing his fingers. It’s slow, and he grimaces a little as he stretches the muscles, but he does it. “I’ve been angry for years. I was angry as a kid, before we met, for a lot of reasons, but mostly because I never understood why other kids didn’t want to know me. You changed that.” His smile melts the ice that formed around Keith’s heart an hour or two ago. “And I was angry when I realized I liked boys, because I figured I was already enough of a freak; I didn’t need to make it even worse by limiting my dating options to gay men who were willing to date cripples.”

“You are _not_ a _cripple_ ,” Keith tells him with all the conviction he has.

Shiro smiles at him, soothing his very frayed nerves.

“I know. But when I was twelve, I wasn’t quite so wise.” He winks, which is devastating, and Keith can’t help but laugh. Shiro sobers quickly, and adds, “Adam changed that.” Keith has to force himself not to frown. “I don’t know what will happen with us,” Shiro says, “but he’s given me the confidence to know that there are guys out there who are willing to give someone like me a chance.”

And, well, Keith has to thank Adam for that, at least.

“You’re perfect, Shiro. Anyone who can’t see that isn’t worth the ground you walk on. If someone wouldn’t give you a chance because of something like this, I’d fight them.”

It’s Shiro’s turn to laugh. “Thanks, Keith. You always know what to say.”

“It’s true,” Keith insists. “I’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear it. You’re _perfect_.”

Shiro’s smile turns soft as he gazes at Keith. It makes Keith’s stomach do somersaults. “What did I do to deserve a best friend like you?”

Keith ducks his head to avoid looking into Shiro’s earnest eyes for another second. “You never had to do anything.”

The door clicks open, and Shiro’s parents and Krolia re-enter the room.

“We thought you two could use some privacy,” Mrs. Shirogane explains. “Takashi, honey, how are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” he answers. “Feeling better all the time.”

“How’s your arm?” his father asks. “Still stiff?”

“Better,” Shiro says. He shows them how he’s able to flex it now.

Keith can’t help the pride that shows through on his face. He knows it does, because his mother is looking at him with an expression he can’t remember seeing before. She looks confused, or maybe like she’s just figured something out, and Keith suddenly feels much more transparent than he would like. He’s suddenly acutely aware of how close he’s sitting to Shiro and stands to make room for the others to come closer.

Shiro shoots him a look, but his attention is quickly drawn away to answer the nurse who has just walked in to check on him.

“Everything okay?” Krolia asks lowly, so only Keith can hear. “You were upset when we left.”

“Everything is fine,” Keith says. “I just got freaked out thinking about— what could have been.” The last part comes out choked, strangled by his throat closing up around the thought of a world without Shiro.

Krolia hugs him close again and presses a kiss to the crown of his head. “It didn’t,” she soothes. “That’s not what happened. Shiro is okay. Everyone is okay. They’re going to help him manage this. You don’t need to worry anymore.”

“I’m always going to worry about Shiro.”

Krolia huffs. “That’s what your father and I are always saying about you.”

Keith shrugs. He’s not sure what to say to that.

The nurse leaves again, letting the room lapse into silence once more. Keith’s phone chimes in his pocket. He pulls it out and sees the now-familiar number flash onto his screen. He still hasn’t saved it, but he’s seen it enough times to have it memorized.

The message is short and simple: _Everything ok?_

Keith types back an equally brief: _all good_

He locks the screen and puts it back in his pocket. When he looks up, Shiro is staring at him. Keith cocks his head, asking Shiro without words if he’s okay, but Shiro shakes himself out of whatever he’s thinking and just smiles.

“When do you get to go home?” Keith asks.

Shiro sighs. “I have to stay overnight for observation, and I should be able to get some temporary bracelets tomorrow to use until I can get the ones I was fitted for. So sometime tomorrow, I guess.” He frowns. It’s obvious how hard he’s been trying to stay positive, but this experience can’t be easy; and on top of that, he’s not going to see Adam this weekend. Unless—

“Is Adam coming to see you? He knows what happened, right?”

“He knows,” Shiro nods. “He can’t come, though. He has some kind of big event for his fraternity that he can’t miss.” He tries to sound nonchalant, but Keith can hear how hurt and disappointed he is. It makes Keith want to punch Shiro’s boyfriend. Shiro is more important than some stupid frat party.

He can’t lose it over this in front of Shiro, though, or his mom, or Shiro’s parents, so he sucks it up and keeps his thoughts to himself.

“I’ll stay with you tonight,” he offers. “I can go grab some stuff from home and we can make it a whole thing! Yeah, I’ll get our GameBoys, and a DVD player— it’ll be like a sleepover.”

He’s excited about this idea, to spend the night with Shiro, just the two of them, and for the chance to give Shiro some much-needed cheering up. Shiro looks excited, too. He’s beaming, and he’s just about to say something when his mom shoots the idea down.

“I’m sorry, boys. The hospital won’t let Keith stay unless he’s a blood relative.” She smiles sadly but kindly at Keith. “I asked before you got here.”

“Oh.”

“Well, it looks like everything is fine here,” Krolia interjects. “How about if I head home and come pick you up when visiting hours are over?”

Keith nods. “Is that okay?” he asks Shiro.

“Yeah, of course!”

“Alright. See you in a few hours.” She hugs him tightly again and pats his hair down before taking her leave.

“We’re going to stay the night with you, Takashi,” Shiro’s mother says. “But for now, we need to pick up a few things. We’ll be back in a little while. Call if you need anything before we get back, and don’t forget to use the call button if you need anything at all. Keith, please keep an eye on him while we’re gone.”

“I will.”

“We’re trusting you with our boy,” Mr. Shirogane says. “Call if you need us.”

“Yes, sir.”

When they’re gone, Keith feels his whole body relax, and he allows himself to sit back down on Shiro’s bed. Shiro frees as much of the mattress for him as he can, and Keith situates himself so that they’re sitting side-by-side, arms squished up against each other in the too-small bed.

“Sooo,” Shiro says. “Who was that?”

Keith cocks an eyebrow. “Who?”

“On the phone. You got a text earlier and you looked, um, different.”

Both eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Different how?”

Shiro shrugs. “I dunno. I can’t even remember the last time I saw you text someone other than me or your parents. Or, well, I don’t usually _see_ you text me, but you know what I mean.”

Shiro waits. Keith could probably get out of this by saying it was his dad checking in on Shiro. Shiro wouldn’t bat an eye, probably; the fact that Keith’s dad _hasn’t_ texted or called yet means he’s doing something really important right now and hasn’t had a chance to check his messages, which Krolia has no doubt left him.

He could get out of this, but he doesn’t lie to Shiro. And... well, maybe he’s feeling a little left behind these days. Maybe he’s sort of _wants_ to tell Shiro who he’s been talking to.

Mustering up his best feigned innocence, he says, “Oh, it was just Griffin.”

Shiro reels back. His face is the picture of shock. “ _James_ Griffin? The guy who tortures you?”

“He doesn’t torture me,” Keith argues. Something protective has been ignited in him, though he doesn’t know if he’s trying to protect Griffin or himself. “We’re graduating high school next year, Shiro. He’s not the same jerk he was when we were in sixth grade.”

“Okay,” Shiro says, still clearly confused. “Sorry, I guess. Didn’t realize you guys were so close.”

Immediately, Keith feels like he’s said something wrong. Or maybe he’s done something wrong. Griffin was never mean to Shiro like he was to Keith, but he didn’t go out of his way to include Shiro, either. Maybe Shiro is mad at him for being friends with Griffin now.

“We’re not,” Keith hastily says. “I mean, we’re... friends... I guess... but we’re not that close. Really.”

He feels himself fidgeting. He’s never been a very convincing liar.

“It’s okay if you are,” Shiro says carefully. “You deserve to have friends other than me. I was just surprised.”

Keith doesn’t say anything.

“Keith?” Shiro nudges him where their arms are still squished together. “Hey, sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. Really, it’s great that you guys are friends. I’m glad he’s not a jerk anymore, and that you guys have set aside your differences.” He forces his way into Keith’s line of sight and smiles up at him. “I’m proud of you.”

Now is probably the time to tell Shiro about the party, but it’s been almost a year since then, and the longer he waits, the longer it feels like he’s hiding it. He’s not ashamed of kissing Griffin — hell, he’s done it a few more times since then — but in weird way, it feels private. It feels like something he’s kept from Shiro for a reason, though he doesn’t know what that reason is.

Would Shiro still be proud of him if he knew?

“Thanks,” Keith says instead.

Shiro backs off and leans back against the bed. “So what did he want?”

“Just wanted to make sure you were okay,” Keith says without thinking.

There’s a strange pause in which Shiro just looks at him, then he asks, “How did Griffin know you were coming to see me in the hospital?”

Okay, this might be more difficult to explain.

“I was with him when my mom called.”

“...You were? You guys hang out?”

“Um. Yeah. I guess I forgot to mention that.” Keith feels a humiliated flush crawling up his neck and face. He’s kept something from Shiro, and now it’s coming out, and he’s really not even sure why he’s kept it from him to begin with.

“How long have you guys been hanging out?”

“Um, since, uh. Since that party last year.” Shiro will know which party he means.

There’s another long, uncomfortable beat of silence. Keith glances up at Shiro from where he’s been watching his own fingers twist and untwist on his lap.

“Shiro?”

Shiro looks stunned. “I... Why haven’t you said anything? It’s been like a year, Keith.”

“No! It hasn’t been a year!” Keith clutches Shiro’s gown and looks at him as imploringly as he can manage. “It hasn’t been that long, really. We just hang out sometimes when you’re out of town, that’s all. I wasn’t— I wasn’t hiding it from you. I just didn’t think it was important.”

“You don’t have to justify having other friends,” Shiro says like it’s obvious, though he still looks distressed, no matter how hard he’s trying to hide it. “I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell me. That’s— that’s weird, right? Have I done something to make you not trust me?”

Keith blanches. “No! God, no, of course not! No, I’m so sorry, Shiro. I should have told you. Of course I trust you. I just— I don’t know, I guess I felt weird about it? I didn’t know how you’d react, or how to bring it up, so I just... didn’t tell you. And then the longer I waited, the longer it felt like I was _not telling you_ , which isn’t even true, but I thought it would be weird to just be like ‘ _Hey, Shiro, guess what? I’m friends with Griffin now and we spend the weekends together when you’re out of town because—_ ’”

He cuts himself off. That was dangerously close to revealing something he has no interested in talking about with Shiro.

“Because why?” Shiro asks.

Keith shakes his head. He already has an explanation ready to go. “Because it’s the only time we both have free.”

Shiro looks like he doesn’t buy it, or maybe he’s going to argue that point, say something like, _You can invite him to hang out with us_ , or _We don’t have to spend every minute together if you want to spend time with your other friends, too_ , even though Keith doesn’t have other friends. He has Shiro and Griffin, and he only barely counts Griffin, still.

He doesn’t give Shiro the chance. “So I guess Adam is gonna have to come home now, huh?”

It’s not exactly the topic he wants to talk about, but it’s better than talking about Griffin.

“Oh, yeah, I guess. I don’t know. We haven’t really talked about it. Been kinda busy, you know.” He huffs a self-deprecating laugh.

Keith frowns. “He should. You’ve been going up to see him every time.”

“Not every time!” Shiro defends. “He came back in November and December.”

“For the holidays, not for you,” Keith says, and immediately regrets it when he sees the look on Shiro’s face. “I mean, of course I’m sure he was happy to see you! That wasn’t what I meant.”

“Right.”

“Wait no, I just meant it would be nice if you didn’t have to spend so much time in the car and he could come be the one to make the drive every once in a while.”

Shiro glares. “Why? Because I’m too sick to drive?”

“No!” Keith swallows hard. “I just think he should be putting as much effort into this relationship as you are.”

He’s hurt Shiro now, and he knows it, because Shiro very rarely is speechless, but now he seems to have nothing to say. Keith wishes he would yell at him or something, say that Keith is a bad friend, or accuse him of being jealous, or anything except sit there and look like Keith just kicked his imaginary cat.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that in a bad way, I swear. Shiro, I’m sorry.”

Shiro takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I know you don’t like Adam, but it’s been five years, Keith. You need to accept that he and I are staying together.”

Keith’s blood is roaring in his ears, and his face feels hot again. His fingers flex in his lap as he tries to maintain eye contact. It’s his turn to be hurt, and now he’s angry and upset with himself for feeling that way when Shiro’s just been in an accident. He’s overwhelmed and starting to burnt out on emotion. Shiro’s not-quite-accusation hits too close to the truth and comes too close to revealing Keith’s deepest, darkest desire.

“I know,” Keith whispers. He wants to say, _I’m sorry. I like Adam, and I’m glad you found someone to love who loves you back._ He wants to maybe say, _I just want you to be happy, and it seems like you’ve been less happy since he left_. He doesn’t want to say what’s currently swirling around in his brain, which is, _I’d make that effort for you. You deserve better. You don’t get to be mad at me for wanting better for you when I’ve got nothing_.

He thinks his hands might be shaking, so he clamps them as tightly together as possible. He feels raw.

Shiro sighs again, long and weary. “Sorry,” he mutters. “Struck a nerve.”

“It’s fine,” Keith mutters. “I won’t bring it up again.”

“Okay.”

The atmosphere in the room is too tense. It’s not what he’s used to with Shiro. They stay quiet for a while, still pressed closely together, which only makes it more awkward and makes Keith want to squirm all the more.

Shiro must eventually realize Keith’s discomfort, because once he’s calmed down, he reaches over and takes Keith’s hand.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” he says, genuine. “That wasn’t fair. I know you’re just saying those things because you care.”

“I _do_ care,” Keith says. Because yeah, maybe he is jealous of Adam, but his priority is first and foremost Shiro’s happiness.

“I’ll talk to him,” Shiro promises. “Especially now that I probably won’t be able to drive long distances. For a while, anyway.”

“Yeah,” Keith agrees. He’s afraid to say much else.

“Keith?”

“Hm?”

“Thanks for coming. I don’t think I’ve said that yet.”

Keith squeezes Shiro’s hand. “You don’t have to. I’ll always come when you need me. And probably when you don’t.”

Shiro laughs, and the tension starts to bleed out of the room. “I need you even when I don’t admit it,” he jokes.

Keith tries to laugh, but he’s emotionally exhausted.

The rest of Keith’s visit is spent making jokes and avoiding serious topics. His mom picks him up right at nine P.M. when visiting hours end. On the way home, he asks his mom if Griffin can spend the night.

“Of course,” she says.

He sends Griffin a text, and Griffin shows up half an hour later with an overnight bag. They end up passed out on the floor in front of the TV with the theme song from their abandoned video game playing on loop in the background.

____________________

As a general rule, Keith and Shiro don’t fight. Sure, they’ve had their flare-ups, but most of the time, they don’t fight. The night that Adam breaks up with Shiro, they _fight_.

Shiro is supposed to be at Adam’s for the weekend. It’s Keith and Shiro’s senior year, and Shiro has been on a cocktail of medications that, along with his physical therapy and muscle stimulators, make it perfectly safe for him to live his life the way he’s always lived it.

Shiro is supposed to be at Adam’s, which means Keith is spending the weekend with Griffin, as they have been once a month for the past almost two years, except for the two or three months that Shiro couldn’t make the trip up to Adam’s college (Adam had only come to visit once during that time; apparently, his fraternity events were often “mandatory”).

Keith is upstairs in his bedroom with the door shut and his shirt on the floor. Griffin’s shirt is somewhere on the floor, too, probably, though Keith can’t be bothered to find out while he’s got his hands down the back of Griffin’s pants and Griffin’s tongue in his mouth.

They still don’t do much more than make out, though the making out has gotten significantly hotter and heavier since the first time.

He doesn’t hear anyone coming up the stairs, and is therefore wholly unprepared when his bedroom door slams open and he’s caught with his literal hands in the figurative cookie jar, staring his extremely distraught best friend in the face.

“Shiro!” he cries, struggling to retrieve his hands from Griffin’s ass and scramble to a less compromising position.

“Shit,” Griffin mutters. He and Keith have gotten to know each other pretty well by now; he knows this is going to spell disaster.

Keith hops off the bed and rushes to Shiro’s side. Shiro is just standing there, stunned, looking back and forth between Keith, Griffin, and the discarded shirts.

“Shiro, are you okay? What’s going on? Why aren’t you at Adam’s?”

Griffin locates his shirt and squeezes past Shiro, who is still blocking the door, with a muttered, “See you later.”

Shiro doesn’t bother to say goodbye. Keith is too distracted by his pounding heart and the vague feeling that he’s about to throw up to do more than nod in his direction as he tears down the stairs.

“What’s going on?” Shiro asks. He looks... angry?

“Nothing, forget it— Shiro, what are you doing here?”

Shiro squints at him. From this close, it’s obvious he’s been crying. His eyes are red-rimmed, and his skin is blotchy, and now he’s looking at Keith like _he_ is the one responsible for his pain. Keith has never seen that look directed at him before, and it makes him want to dig himself a grave and bury himself alive.

“Are you fucking _James Griffin_?”

“What— no— I swear I’m not— it’s not what it looks like— Shiro please, come sit down—”

“What the _fuck_ , Keith.”

“We’re just friends,” he whispers. He feels so small under the weight of Shiro’s disappointment. _This_ is why he’s never told him about them. Well, partly this, and maybe partly another reason that he’ll probably never be able to face.

“ _Friends_ don’t dry hump each other behind closed doors, _Keith_.”

All at once, Keith’s temper flares.

“Why are you so mad?! I’m seventeen, Shiro. What did you expect me to do? Wait around forever?”

Shiro scoffs. “Whatever.” He’s hurting — Keith can see that — but that doesn’t make it okay for him to take it out on Keith.

“So what if I am, huh? Why do you give a fuck about anything that happens between me and Griffin? You have no right, Shiro, _no right_ to judge me for finding someone who wants me.”

“He’s _using_ you, Keith. Or are you too blind to see that?”

“I know!” Keith shouts. “I’m using him, too! It’s a great system!”

“So, what? This is what you do when I go out of town? Invite Griffin over and do god-knows-what while your parents are downstairs?”

“While you’re out of town to visit your _boyfriend_? Yeah, so fucking what? And by the way, don’t act like you and Adam have never done anything while your parents were home. You fucked for the first time at a _party_. Don’t act so high and mighty.”

It’s tense and horrible as they stare each other down. Neither of them says anything for a few minutes. All of the lonely, heartbroken feelings he’s had to deal with over the past six years come flooding back all at once, and it’s all he can do to stop himself from either breaking down or punching the closest thing he can find.

They stand there, fuming and trembling, until Shiro’s face crumples and Keith finds himself with an armful of his best friend.

“Oh, Shiro,” he murmurs, winding his fingers through Shiro’s hair.

His dad finds them at the top of the stairs like that. “Everything alright up here?” he asks. He’s probably heard everything, which Keith will have to deal with later, but for now he needs to take care of Shiro.

“Yeah,” Keith says. “Can we maybe get some water or something?”

His dad nods and gives him a once-over. “Put a shirt on,” he mumbles.

Keith leads Shiro to his bed and sits him down before locating and putting on his shirt. When he looks back at Shiro, he sees that Shiro has found Keith’s old stuffed hippo and is clutching it to his chest in a death grip. It’s adorably tragic. He sits down next to Shiro and goes back to stroking his hair the way he knows helps Shiro calm down.

“Can you tell me what happened?” he asks.

Shiro sniffs pathetically. “Everything was fine until we started talking about my plans for next year.”

Keith’s stomach drops. He had known this was going to be a problem between them, but he hadn’t know it was going to end up like _this_.

“I’m guessing he didn’t take your decision well?”

Shiro shakes his head. “I told him I got into Garrison, which he knows is my first choice, and it just went downhill from there.”

Keith’s father comes back with the water and an aspirin, just in case, so Keith gets Shiro to drink a bit before continuing the story.

“Thanks.” Shiro sets the glass down and goes back to hugging the hippo. “It’s just— I know he means well, but I can’t give up on my dream just so that he can take care of me. I can’t go to a school that, frankly, I don’t even like that much, just because my boyfriend is there. This is _my_ future. I know that sounds selfish, but I guess I just hoped he’d support me, even if it meant doing long distance for a few more years.”

“You’re right,” Keith agrees. “It _is_ your future. Don’t doubt your decision for a second, Shiro.”

Shiro hiccups, bringing on a fresh set of tears. “I was supposed to marry him,” he chokes out. “ _He_ was supposed to be my future, too.”

The sting that statement brings has to be set aside for now; Keith can deal with his complicated feelings later. “Maybe he’ll come around,” he soothes, though he knows that’s not true. Adam can be a bit hard-headed, especially in recent years when it comes to Shiro’s health.

“I don’t think so,” Shiro whispers. “It feels pretty done to me.” His lips wobble, and he sucks in a long, shuddering breath, trying to steady himself. Tears continue to roll down his ruddy cheeks.

“Shiro,” Keith says. His heart shatters for his best friend. “I’m so sorry.” He pulls Shiro close and lets him cry on his shoulder. He smoothes Shiro’s hair over and over again, letting the repetition sooth him. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. A few tears of his own escape the corner of his eye and get lost in Shiro’s hair. “You’re gonna be okay,” he vows. It comes out a little watery. “I swear you will.”

Shiro stiffens when one of Keith’s tears falls through the space between them and lands on Shiro’s hand. He pulls away and looks up at Keith, who can’t hide it quickly enough.

“Why are you crying?” Shiro asks. “You hated Adam.”

Keith shakes his head. “I didn’t,” he says, truthfully. “I just hate seeing you in pain.”

Shiro blinks up at him. “You’re crying because I’m in pain?”

“Of course.”

They don’t say anything else. Eventually, Keith gets Shiro to finish the rest of his glass of water, and they end up lying in Keith’s bed facing each other, hands tangled in the space between them.

“I’m sorry I said those things about you and Griffin,” Shiro says.

Keith tries to shrug, though the effect isn’t quite the same lying on his side. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. It was wrong of me to say. And it’s not even how I really feel.”

Keith makes an inquisitive sound. “What do you mean?”

“Just, you know.” Shiro squeezes his hand once and resumes tracing circles with his thumb. “I’m really not judging you. And I’m happy you found someone. It was just— I dunno, bad timing, I guess. I wasn’t expecting to come back and find you— like that. Especially with James Griffin, of all people.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Keith concedes. “It’s not like I told you about any of it, anyway. So I get why you might have been surprised.”

Shiro’s eyes search his as he asks, “Why _didn’t_ you tell me?”

Keith has been dreading this question for almost two years. He has no idea if this is the right time to tell Shiro the whole truth. He’s not sure if he’ll _ever_ tell Shiro the whole truth.

“I guess I was afraid of how you’d react when you found out. Or, I don’t know, maybe I was a little embarrassed that I’ve been doing this weird friends-with-benefits thing with a guy we both used to sort of hate.”

“Friends with benefits, huh?” Shiro continues to look into his eyes. “So you _are_ sleeping together?”

Keith shakes his head. “What you, um, saw, was pretty much as far as it’s ever gone. It’s just for fun, Shiro. We aren’t like, together or anything.”

“For how long?”

Keith sighs. This is going to be hard to explain. “Promise you won’t get mad,” he says.

“I promise.” Shiro squeezes his hand again.

“You remember that party we went to a couple of years ago? For Adam’s graduation?” Shiro nods. “Remember when Griffin and I went out for that walk and took a while to come back?”

Shiro rears back, though their hands remain connected. “Are you serious?”

Keith closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to see Shiro’s expression.

“You ran off to make out with Griffin? I was worried sick about you that night. I thought you might have gotten hurt, or passed out in a ditch, or maybe gotten in a fight with Griffin and you were both in jail or something.”

Keith can’t help but laugh at Shiro’s ridiculousness. “No. Just making out in the backyard.”

Shiro’s look of incredulity is at least better than the utter disdain from earlier. “ _How?_ ”

“Well...” Keith clears his throat. “I needed some air, and he was heading out, too, so we got to talking, and I realized he wasn’t that horrible kid anymore. You know? We had a really good talk. And then... I mean, there aren’t that many gay guys to choose from at school, or in this town, really, so it kinda made sense for us to, um. You know. Help each other out, or whatever.”

“Okay, sure,” Shiro says slowly, “but what I’m failing to understand is why you agreed to take a walk with him in the first place.”

The hand not tangled with Shiro’s begins to pick restlessly at the bedsheets, even though there’s nothing there to pick. “Well, uh, I guess he could tell I was upset, so he thought a walk would be better than drinking myself into oblivion.”

“What? Why were you so upset? I thought you had a good time.”

“I did!” Keith assures. “Really.”

“So then why were you so upset?”

Keith doesn’t answer. There’s nothing more to say now; Shiro will either get it or he won’t, but Keith isn’t willing to spell it out for him. So instead, he just watches Shiro and waits. And waits. And as the silence stretches on, understanding dawns in Shiro’s eyes, and his expression goes soft and sad.

“Oh.”

Keith doesn’t want to talk about. He doesn’t want to think about it. He doesn’t want to think of anything anymore, because right now the only thing he has energy for is making sure the hole his heart is digging in his chest doesn’t crack his ribs and break through and spill his best-kept secret all over his bedsheets.

He withdraws his hand from Shiro’s and turns the other way, hiding his face and turning his back to the person who holds the fractured pieces of his heart.

“We should get some sleep,” he says. “You’ve had a long day.”

Shiro doesn’t say anything as Keith turns off the lights and settles down to go to sleep. Keith doesn’t allow himself to shed anymore tears.

____________________

The worst day of Keith’s entire life is the day his dad dies.

Things have been strange between him and Shiro for a while, and he’s been struggling. He’s been trying not to let it get to him too much. He’s graduating in a couple of weeks and going to college in a few months, and he doesn’t have time to waste feeling sorry for himself because he’s in love with his best friend who doesn’t love him back. It’s been that way for a long, long time. He’s very used to the feeling of loving without being loved in return. He’s accepted that loving Shiro is a part of who he is, and he doesn’t intend to change that, nor does he intend to act on it.

Shiro, though, doesn’t seem to have accepted it quite so easily.

It’s been about a month and a half since Shiro and Adam broke up. They haven’t had a sleepover since then; Shiro always seems to be busy now, though Keith isn’t sure what he could be doing since he doesn’t have a boyfriend to take up his time anymore.

Keith spends a lot of time with James, now. They’re still friends, even though they’re not really making out anymore. Keith hasn’t been in the mood since he put his heart on the line and had it handed back to him. James seems fine with that. He says when they’re at Garrison next year, it would be better to show up unattached, in case either of them find someone there.

It couldn’t be more obvious what he means — in case _James_ finds someone there. They both know that Keith has no intention of looking for anyone else, especially when the one person he wants will be there, too.

Keith hasn’t actually told Shiro that he finally got his acceptance to Garrison U and will be attending alongside Shiro. He and Shiro have had the same dream since they were little kids learning about the planets in their third grade classroom, but now Keith is worried that Shiro might see Keith attending the same school as him as a bad thing. It doesn’t matter that not too long ago, they were eagerly planning their future, what classes they wanted to take, where they wanted to live (as roommates, of course), what clubs they might want to join. Now they’re not speaking, and it’s all Keith’s fault, so maybe that’s all changed.

James will be there, too. That’s not a new development, since James has also been talking about it for as long as Keith can remember. Keith used to hate the idea of James ending up at the same school as him and Shiro, but now he’s grateful to know he’ll have at least one friend there.

This isn’t how he imagined finishing high school. It’s strangling him.

There’s hardly any work left to be done. He’s already taken his AP exams, so now he’s basically just showing up to school for the last two weeks so that his attendance won’t disqualify him from graduating. The teachers don’t have much left for them to do since exams are over, so class time is often spent doing “fun” and “educational” activities — sometimes more fun, sometimes more educational (like that one time they just watched Anaconda for three days, or the other time they had to pair off and make imaginary children using Punnett squares and then draw pictures of said imaginary children).

Today in biology class, they’re not even pretending to do something. Everyone is separated into their own groups, chatting and listening to music and playing cards. One group is at the white board playing Hangman. Shiro is reading a book. Keith is doodling in a sketchbook he bought recently, trying to figure out how the hell to draw hands.

The intercom crackles.

“Mr. Montez? Can you send Keith to the office, please?”

The class erupts in a chorus of _Oooooh_ , because they somehow still think that’s funny, and Keith just rolls his eyes and stands up.

“Does he need a pass for his next class?” Mr. Montez asks the intercom.

“No, but please have him pack his things and bring them with him.”

Keith knows that means he’s probably going home for the day, but he doesn’t know why. His gaze darts to Shiro out of habit, and Shiro is already looking back at him curiously. Keith feels his face flame at being caught and averts his eyes. He feels the frown on his face, partly from confusion as to why he’s being sent home, and partly from the lingering humiliation he feels in the face of his maybe-former best friend.

“Alright, Keith. You heard her. Don’t keep her waiting.”

As he’s heading out, one of the administrators shows up at the door, and he hears him ask to speak to Mr. Montez in the hallway as he’s walking away.

His mom is in the principal’s office when he arrives. There’s a chair open next to hers, where Keith assumes he’s supposed to sit, but every instinct in him is telling him to run away — there’s nothing good that will come of him sitting in that chair.

“Please come in, Keith.”

The principal rarely uses first names. It’s always _Mister_ and _Miss_.

_Run_.

He clutches the straps of his backpack until his knuckles turn white.

“What?” he snaps. His mom looks tired and upset.

“Please have a seat,” Dr. Porter says.

“No.”

“Keith.” It’s his mother talking. She _sounds_ tired, too. Keith has never heard her sound like that.

“No. What?”

Dr. Porter and his mom exchange a look. Krolia shakes her head and stands, shepherding Keith into the room.

“We need to talk,” she tells him.

Everything after that is a vague, blurry haze. He hears someone trying to tell him that he’s not going to see his dad anymore, but that can’t be right. That can’t be right because Keith is graduating in two weeks and his dad promised they could barbecue together that night. It can’t be right because his dad is going to drive him to Arizona and help him move into college. It’s supposed to be their road trip, just the two of them. They’re going to leave a few days early and stop at the tourist traps along Route 66. It _can’t be right_ , because Keith _needs_ his dad. He needs him _so much_ , because he can’t do any of this without him. He _can’t_.

Inside is a mishmash of emotions that don’t make sense. He’s numb. He’s raw. He doesn’t believe a damn thing anyone is saying. He wants to scream. He wants to punch something — or someone, he’s not picky. He wants to run and run and run and run until his feet fall off and then his knees and then his arms, until all of him turns to dust and blows away in the wind. He wants to lie in bed for the rest of his life and never move again.

Nobody speaks on the way home. Inside the house is quiet. It’s creepy. It’s horrible. The bathroom smells like his dad’s cologne. His laundry is in the hamper. His slippers are by the lounge chair.

Everywhere he looks is a reminder of something he doesn’t — _can’t_ — think about. Even his own room is covered in memorabilia from trips they’ve taken: a souvenir baseball from Keith’s first major league game, an old vinyl record cover of his dad’s favorite band (and consequently Keith’s favorite band) hanging on the wall; even his desk, upon which he flings his backpack, was built by his dad when Keith started high school and needed a quieter place to do his homework.

No matter where he looks, he can’t escape. Every beat of his heart scrapes against his chest, hollowing him out. It would be so much easier if it just stopped.

He lies on his bed and stares at the ceiling. It’s the only safe place to look.

He forgets to eat dinner. His mother doesn’t remind him. It’s a long, horrible night. His dad never comes home.

Keith doesn’t go to school the next day, or the next day, or the next. He learns, after that, that the school has excused him for the rest of the year. There’s no need for him to go just to waste time since he’s already taken his finals anyway.

He waits, and waits, and waits, and no matter how stupid he knows he is, he’s still bitterly disappointed when his dad doesn’t come home.

On the fourth night, Keith leaves the safety of his room to sneak into the kitchen. He and his mom haven’t had a meal together since. It doesn’t feel right. You can’t have a family dinner without the family. He’s hardly had much to eat at all, what with the complete and utter loss of his appetite. Just enough to stop the feeling of his stomach eating itself.

His dad’s favorite way to unwind after a hard shift is — _was_ — to sit down with a glass of scotch and watch whatever baseball game was on the TV. If it wasn’t baseball season, he sometimes watched hockey, but usually he’d search until he found a rerun of an old game.

The scotch is in the glass liquor cabinet with the nice glasses. It’s not locked, because Keith has always been a good kid, and his parents have never had any reason to believe that they would need to lock it. That works to Keith’s advantage now as he swipes the bottle and goes out to the backyard.

It’s disgusting. Keith barely likes the taste of most alcohol, and this isn’t even diluted by anything. It tastes like gasoline, and it burns, and it’s the first thing other than suffocating emptiness that Keith has felt in four days.

He sits in the backyard and drinks, and drinks, and when he’s feeling good and stupid, he starts walking. By some absolute miracle, his phone still has some charge — probably because he hasn’t bothered to look at it for four days.

There are several messages from James:

_Hey, didn’t see you in math class. Everything ok?_

_Hey, are you sick or something?_

_Let me know if you need anything._

_Hey. Sorry if I’m bugging you. Just haven’t heard from you in a few days and thought I’d check in._

He lets those sit, because honestly, he can’t even think about James right now. That part of his life seems so distant. It feels weird as fuck to have texts from James Griffin on his phone, worrying about him, checking in on him, even though they’ve been friends for two years. It feels weird as fuck that he hasn’t heard from Shiro in god-knows how long. And he’s _pissed_.

He smashes Shiro’s speed dial and listens to it ring. He’s still walking, though he doesn’t know where he’s going. The bottle of scotch swings from his fingers as he ambles along.

Shiro doesn’t answer, and that makes Keith even more mad. It doesn’t matter what time it is — hell, he doesn’t even _know_ what time it is — Shiro is supposed to _answer_ when Keith calls. Shiro’s voicemail message plays. The machine beeps.

“HEY. Guess you weren’t expecting me to call, huh?” Keith chuckles darkly. “Nah. ‘Course you weren’t.” There’s a pause as he focuses on kicking a loose rock on the asphalt. “Stupid rock. Do you even think about me, Shiro? Do you — do you ever think about me _at all_? Why—” he takes a stuttering breath— “Why don’t you talk to me anymore? Why aren’t we f-friends anymore? Huh?” Another pause. “TELL ME why we aren’t friends anymore, Shiro! Tell me why you’re gone. Tell me why you left. Tell me w-why everyone l-leaves.” All of his breaths stutter now. He can’t breathe at all. He’s just walking and kicking the stupid fucking rocks. “Where the fuck are you, Shiro? My—” He can’t say it. “My—” There’s a long, loud honk from behind him, practically causing him to jump out of his skin, and the bottle shatters where it falls from his limp fingers. “FUCK. My dad is DEAD, Shiro! And WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?”

He hangs up the phone and stumbles to the side of the road to sit on the grassy curb in front of someone’s house.

For the first time in four days, he cries. He sobs and screams and rips the grass out of the ground and smashes his balled fists against the dirt until it’s caked into his skin, and then he lies down on his side and cries some more.

He’s not sure how, but the next morning he wakes up in his own bed in a set of clean pajamas. There’s water and aspirin on his nightstand. Everything hurts, most notably his throat.

There’s crusty shit in the corners of his eyes, which is annoying, so he digs it out and flicks it somewhere else. His head doesn’t hurt yet, but he pops two aspirin anyway.

It’s finally hitting him now. His dad isn’t coming back. Ever. He’s seventeen years old, and he’s never going to get to see his father ever again.

His hands hurt. There’s dirt encrusted under his fingernails, and the meat of his fists where he beat the ground is scratched and tender. He examines them for a while, just thinking. He’s spent four days not thinking about anything at all, so now he sits and thinks about his fingernails and his dad’s last bottle of scotch and the fact that his best friend in the whole world hates him, maybe.

There’s a noise on the other side of the room, causing Keith to shoot straight up in bed and back against the wall. He immediately regrets it; pain shoots through his skull at the same time as his stomach protests the movement, and he’s _sure_ he’s about the puke all over his bed.

A trash can appears in front of him, and he pukes in that, instead.

When he’s finished dry-heaving into the bucket, he closes his eyes and leans back against the wall. It’s cold against his back, and the position makes him feel less nauseous.

“Sorry,” a quiet voice murmurs. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

It takes all of Keith’s energy to force his eyes open and meet that voice. He almost doesn’t, almost assumes it’s just a mean trick his mind is playing on him, but he has to see for himself if Shiro is really here.

“I’m so sorry, Keith,” he whispers. Keith can see his jaw and throat working, like he’s holding something back. “I’m so, so, _so_ sorry.”

A tear slips from Shiro’s eye. He tries to hide it, but he’s not fast enough.

“My dad is dead,” Keith whispers miserably.

Shiro nods. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

More tears fall, and for the first time in what feels like a lifetime, Keith finds himself in the arms of his best friend, comforted by his familiar arms and familiar scent.

Shiro stays with him every night for a long time, after that. He still has to go to school, but he comes back in the afternoons or evenings. Sometimes he brings food sent by his parents. His parents come by some nights, too, to help with things around the house and give Krolia the support she’s been sorely missing from her son.

It takes another exhausting, tear-filled conversation to make things right with his mom, but she understands. They do their best to start having dinner together again. It’s better with Shiro there, but there’s still a massive, gaping hole where Keith’s father once sat.

They work on it. It doesn’t get easier, but life goes on.


	2. Stasis

Keith doesn’t walk at his graduation. It should have been one of the best days of his life, but instead, it’s just another day.

There’s a graduation party the following weekend, thrown by one of the girls in their graduating class. Apparently, her parents told her it’s fine for her to have “a few friends over” while they’re out of town, since she’s eighteen and a high school graduate, which apparently means that she’s suddenly become a responsible adult. So naturally, the entire graduating class is invited.

“Come on, Keith. It’ll be fun!” Shiro tries. “How many times do you get to graduate?”

“Two, probably. Maybe three if I go to grad school or something.”

Shiro rolls his eyes. “Okay, but how many times do you get to graduate from _high school_? We’re never going to be younger than we are now. We should try to have some fun.”

Keith sighs. “I’m just... not really in the mood for fun, okay?”

“Okay,” Shiro says, deflating and sagging back onto his parents’ couch. “It’s just, you know, I feel like we have to make up for lost time. Since I was such a jerk to you.”

“You weren’t a jerk, Shiro. You were uncomfortable. I get it. I’m not mad at you.”

Shiro squirms where he sits. It’s been hard for them to get back to where they were before. Truthfully, they still aren’t there. It’s obvious that the idea of Keith having feelings for him makes him uncomfortable, so for the sake of their friendship, Keith told him the only lie he’ll ever feel okay about telling Shiro: that he’s totally, one hundred percent over it. It’s been a lot better for the two of them since then.

“I know,” Shiro says. “But I still think it would be good for you — for _both_ of us — to get out and have some fun. I’m... well, I’m worried about you, Keith.”

Keith flops onto his back on the floor, where he’s been sat leaning against the couch. He gives himself a moment to think about it. Would it be so bad? He hasn’t done anything but mope at home for the past few weeks. His mom has recently started going back to work. She cooks some nights, too. Maybe Keith should start trying to get back to himself, too. For his mom.

“Okay,” he relents with a long-suffering sigh. “I’ll go. But if it sucks, I’m leaving.”

“Totally fair,” Shiro says. “But it’s not going to suck! It’s going to be great.”

 _Right_. Keith isn’t sure if he believes that at all.

“Okay!” Shiro exclaims, springing up from his spot with renewed energy. “I’m gonna go get ready. Do you wanna wait for me and we can go back to your place for you to get ready, or do you want to head back and I’ll pick you up there?”

Keith shrugs. “Whatever. I’m probably not gonna do much to get ready.”

“Keith,” Shiro frowns. “You can’t wear basketball shorts and your gym shirt to the party.”

“Why _not_?” Keith whines. “It’s the same stupid people we’ve been around for the past four years. They know us. Why does it matter what I wear?”

“Because,” Shiro says, “This might be the last time we see some of them.” He takes off toward his bedroom. “Might as well leave a lasting impression!” His voice echoes off the hallway walls. Keith can’t help but chuckle. It’s nice to see Shiro excited. Suddenly, he’s glad he agreed to go.

“Pick me up when you’re done getting ready,” he calls to Shiro. “I’ll be done by the time you get there.”

“Alright!”

It doesn’t take Keith long to get ready. He shoots off a text to James, then jumps in the shower to get rid of the near-permanent sheen of sweat he sports most days in the summer. He uses the cologne he knows Shiro likes and wears a pair of jeans that James once told him make his ass look “squeezable.” A t-shirt is fine, he decides, because there’s really only so much effort he’s willing to put in for these people, so he grabs something black and calls it a day.

James has been great through the whole Shiro debacle. He’s also been great about giving Keith the space he’s been needing since his dad passed away while still letting Keith know he’s there. But if Keith is going to start getting back to normal, that means making an effort with the only other friend he has. Besides, he’s not really in a position to start alienating the people who care about him.

“Going somewhere?” his mom asks when he makes his way back downstairs. She’s sitting at the table with a mug of tea — his dad’s favorite, he notes sadly — writing what looks like a shopping list on the notepad they keep by the refrigerator.

“Oh, uh, yeah. I thought it might be fun to go to this party tonight.”

Krolia sets down her mug and her pen. “Are you sure that’s such a good idea?”

Keith hates that he’s made his mom worry. He knows he’s fucked up recently. He knows she’s been through a lot.

“Shiro thinks I need to have some fun,” he says. She frowns.

“Well, he’s not wrong, but is going to a party where people will be drinking really the most productive way to go about it?”

Keith sits at the table next to his mom and takes her hand. “I promise I won’t drink,” he says. “It’s not that fun anyway. I’m just gonna go to hang out with Shiro and James.”

She looks at him with eyes full of concern. He can see how much she’s still struggling with their loss. “I really need you to be careful,” she tells him. “I—” she takes a deep breath— “I need you to come home safe tonight. Okay?”

It’s a big show of trust that she’s letting him go, and Keith squeezes her hand to show his appreciation. “I promise,” he says, eyes prickling. “I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too, Keith.” She pulls him in for a tight hug that lasts a little too long for comfort, but Keith indulges her. Besides, it’s kind of nice to hug his mom like this.

Shiro shows up to pick him up not too long after.

“Oh, you look good,” he says.

“You sound surprised.”

“You just didn’t seem that interested like, an hour ago.”

“Yeah, well.” Keith shrugs, suddenly feeling hot. “I figured a shower was the least I could do.”

Shiro just smirks and gestures toward the door. “Shall we?”

“Sure,” Keith says.

“Be careful!” Krolia calls. “Call if you need me!”

“We will!” both boys call back.

It’s still a little early, so they stop for burgers and milkshakes first. When they’re finished, Keith orders a cookies and cream shake to go.

“What’s that for?” Shiro asks, head tilted adorably. “You don’t like cookies and cream.”

“Oh, uh.” Keith clears his throat awkwardly. “It’s for James. As, like, an apology, I guess.”

Something complicated crosses Shiro’s face, and Keith can’t even begin to interpret what it might mean.

“James?” he seems to be waiting for an answer, though Keith isn’t sure what the question is. “As in, Griffin?”

Keith realizes the confusion then. Inside, he squirms, unsure why he’s so uncomfortable with Shiro realizing how close he and James have become.

“Yeah. Griffin.” He swallows. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Shiro mutters.

“Okay. Well, sorry.”

They sit in awkward silence until the milkshake arrives, and then they’re off and headed toward the party.

Most people aren’t too far gone when they arrive — _most_ people. Apparently, some people decided to pre-game the party, or showed up and started way before the rest, but that’s not very surprising, considering most of them are good friends with the girl throwing the party.

James is already there, thankfully, since Keith hadn’t actually thought it through when ordering the milkshake. While Shiro gets them something to drink, Keith makes his way over to deliver his treat.

James is standing with a group of his other friends, who Keith has met a few times now but doesn’t know very well. One of them is the one throwing the party. Keith gathers his courage and taps James on the shoulder. James turns and, seeing Keith, lights up.

“Hey!” He pulls Keith in for a tight hug, and Keith has to suppress an _oof_ and hold the milkshake at a safe distance.

“Hey,” he laughs. His free hand snakes its way around James’ waist, returning the hug. “I guess I didn’t need to bring you an apology milkshake after all.”

James releases him and pulls away, eyebrows furrowed. “A what?”

Keith can see now that James is apparently one of the ones who showed up and got started early. His eyes are a bit glazed, a bit less focused than they usually are. He brings the milkshake into James’ line of sight and wiggles it enticingly. “Cookies and cream,” he sing-songs.

James gasps. “For _me_?”

“All for you,” Keith grins.

James takes the milkshake and takes a giant sip. “Oh my _god_ , it’s so _good_ ,” he all but moans. He takes another sip while his friends tease him from behind. “What’s an apology milkshake?” he asks.

“A peace offering, for being a dick and ignoring your texts for the past few weeks.”

James just shrugs and continues to sip happily at his shake. “I’m well aware you’re a dick.”

It’s said so matter-of-factly that it startles a laugh out of Keith. “Ass,” Keith chuckles, shoving him a little.

“Mhm,” James hums. “Speaking of which—” He gives Keith an exaggerated once-over. “You look good. Nice pants.” He winks, which, surprisingly, makes Keith blush a little. He knows James is attracted to him, but he’s not quite used to being openly objectified in public. In a way, it feels nice, but probably only because it’s coming from a friend he’s grown to trust.

“Oh yeah, you do look good,” one of the girls behind James pipes up. “Not many people can pull off the all-black, skinny jeans and t-shirt, just-rolled-out-of-bed-looking-hot-and-disheveled look.”

“Uh, thanks?” Keith says. It _sounds_ like a compliment, but it _feels_ like an insult.

“It’s a compliment,” another girl translates. “It’s an _excellent_ look, but most guys are too straight-laced to pull it off.” She nudges James in the arm.

The group devolves into half-drunken giggles, even James, who, sober, would normally be totally offended by the insuation that there is _anything_ he can’t pull off.

“Sounds like you guys are having fun,” Keith hears from behind. He turns, and Shiro is standing there with two cups, one filled with whatever he’s drinking, and one that he holds out to Keith that just contains ginger ale. That weird look is on his face again. It nags at Keith; it’s an expression with which he’s entirely unfamiliar, and it’s frustrating. Keith is supposed to know Shiro better than anyone, so why can’t he figure out what he’s feeling?

“Just telling Keith how hot he looks tonight,” the first girl teases.

“Oh, hah,” Shiro chuckles awkwardly. “Okay then.”

There’s an uncomfortable beat of silence in which nobody knows what to say. Keith’s face feels hot again. He’s been fine spending his life under the radar; being the center of attention has never been something he’s wanted or been comfortable with on the rare occasion it’s happened.

He looks to James for reassurance, since Shiro is acting fucking weird, and finds James already looking back and forth between the two of them. Something is happening in his mind, but though they’ve been friends for a while, Keith has never gained the ability to read him the way he can Shiro.

Apropos of nothing, James snakes an arm around Keith’s waist and pulls him close. “Thanks for the milkshake,” he murmurs near Keith’s ear, then leans in for a kiss on the cheek that Keith is not expecting but is also not entirely unwelcome.

“Oh, uh, no problem.”

Shiro is _glaring_ at James when Keith looks back at him. Keith realizes with a sinking feeling that Shiro probably still holds some resentment toward James for the way he was when they were younger. After all, it’s not like they’ve ever spent any time together. Keith has made sure to keep those parts of his life separate, though now he wonders if he should have tried harder to bring them together.

He scoots closer to James just to show Shiro that it’s fine, and shoots Shiro the warmest smile he can muster.

“I know you guys already know each other, but I guess it’s time you formally met, huh?” Keith forces a laugh to lighten the weirdly electric mood.

James flexes his fingers where they’re resting on Keith’s hip and plasters on a smile. He reaches out to Shiro with his free hand. “I hope we can get to know each other better,” he says, “now that we’re both part of Keith’s life.”

That’s... a weird way to word it, Keith feels, but he’s never been good at this stuff. Shiro has been helping him navigate social situations for most of his life.

Shiro’s answering smile is tight, but he shakes James’ hand. “No time like the present,” he says.

James grins. “Absolutely.”

“Beer pong?” one of the girls suggests. Keith makes a mental note to ask James their names as soon as they’re out of earshot, assuming that ever happens.

“Beer pong!” the other one shouts. James and Shiro exchange a look and a shrug and follow behind. If it weren’t for James’ arm around his waist, Keith might have been left behind to wonder what exactly he’s gotten himself into.

Shiro is immediately pulled to one side of the table while James wanders over to the other. Keith settles himself on the nearby couch to watch. The second girl comes to sit next to him. She looks familiar in an unsettling way, considering Keith is certain he doesn’t know her.

“I’m not sure I should play,” Shiro says, ever the responsible one.

“I can drive us home,” Keith offers. “I’m not drinking anyway. Promised Mom.”

Shiro looks hesitant, but steps up to the table anyway. “You sure?”

“Absolutely. As long as you don’t mind me driving your car.”

“You know I don’t,” Shiro says, smile going slightly dopey, and _oh,_ does that do things to Keith’s heart.

“Great, so let’s get this started!” James calls from the other side of the table.

It’s set up with admirable efficiency for a bunch of drunk recent high school graduates.

Shiro is great at beer pong. He’s good at anything that requires hand-eye coordination, actually, and it helps that he’s also stone-cold sober when they start, whereas James is the kind of giggly-drunk that prevents him from paying enough attention to what he’s doing. The girl is on Shiro’s team, and James has recruited some guy Keith doesn’t know, and it turns out to be a fairly even match. Shiro’s team still wins by two, though, and Keith can’t help but grin when he sees both Shiro’s smug smirk and James’ petulant disgruntlement. They’re both way too competitive for their own good.

Shiro’s barely tipsy; he’s hardly had anything to drink, but now that he’s started, he’s apparently comfortable enough to get something. He snags a can from a nearby cooler and makes his way toward the couch to sit at Keith’s other side. Keith is so busy watching Shiro that he’s caught off guard when James plops down next to him, dragging an arm across his shoulders. It’s only because he’s already looking at Shiro that he sees the look of betrayal cross his face before he schools his features and redirects, grabbing a nearby chair and dragging it to sit across from them.

There’s soft giggling coming from his other side, where girl number two is sitting.

“Oh!” Keith exclaims, suddenly remembering he still doesn’t know who these people are. James turns his attention to Keith just as Keith is leaning in to ask the question in his ear, causing their noses to bump and their lips to almost brush. He smiles in mild embarrassment at the fumble and noses James’ cheek to get him to turn away.

“Who are these girls?” he asks. James nearly spits out his drink laughing. Keith’s not sure what’s funny.

“Do you even know who’s hosting the party?“ James asks. Keith shrugs helplessly. “Nadia Rizavi,” James explains. “The one who was on Shiro’s team.”

Oh. Well, at least he asked.

“And the other one?”

James leans over to look at the girl on Keith’s other side. “That’s Veronica. She’s friends with Nadia, but she’s not in our grade. She graduated like, two years ago, I think.”

“You think?”

It’s James’ turn to shrug. “I really only see her when Nadia invites her to stuff.”

Keith nods, satisfied with the information. He’s definitely sure he doesn’t know her, but he still can’t shake the familiar feeling. He turns to say something to Shiro, but doesn’t interrupt when he sees that Shiro is already engaged in conversation with one of the guys from their biology class. He’s seen them talk before, but the guy is straight as they come, and unwelcome relief floods through him at the realization. He hates himself a little bit for the knee-jerk jealousy reaction he still feels when someone catches Shiro’s attention.

“You okay?” James asks. Not for the first time, Keith thinks it’s nice to have another friend, someone he can talk to about Shiro who isn’t Shiro.

“Things are still kinda weird between us,” he admits. “I wish I hadn’t told him how I felt. Feel. Whatever.”

“Keith.” James doesn’t say anything else until Keith’s full attention is back on him. “Look,” he says. “I know we’re not, like, romantic or whatever. And I like that about us. But you should know, you’re a real catch. Shiro will figure that out.” He pauses, rethinks, then says, “No, he knows that. You guys have been friends forever. He knows how great you are, and one of these days he’s going to get his head out of his ass and figure out he’s head over heels for you.”

Keith is too sober for this kind of honest praise — not to mention, James is wrong.

“Whatever you say,” he says for the sake of not arguing.

“I’m right,” James says. The moment stretches for a few seconds until James thinks of something funny and erupts into giggles. “I’m always right!”

Keith can’t help but smile. Any other time, he’d hate being the only sober person in a room full of drunk people, but the people he’s around right now are alright.

His attention shifts once again when he sees Shiro get up to grab another beer. The guy from before is across the room hitting on some girl who’s completely uninterested. At some point, Keith’s other side was vacated, and this time Shiro takes his rightful place.

“Hey, buddy,” he says. “Having fun?”

“Better now,” he responds without thinking. He’s immediately self-conscious, hopes that Shiro doesn’t think it’s weird that he said that.

Shiro tilts his head with a little confused smile. His cheeks are adorably flushed. He looks much more relaxed than he did an hour ago. God, he’s perfect. Keith’s heart aches.

“I’m gonna get some punch!” James declares, pushing himself up and away. He doesn’t even bother finding the imaginary punchbowl, just hunts down Nadia and Veronica and rejoins their conversation, easy as anything. Easy with people the way Shiro is now, the way Keith will never be.

Shiro sighs, eyes dropping closed and he leans into Keith’s space.

“Man, I needed this,” he breathes.

Keith lets him lean. He tries not to lean even closer, doesn’t want to ruin this moment.

“Feeling good?” he teases.

Shiro hums. “Mhm. It just feels like... like I’m finally free, you know? No more school, no job, just three months of summer between us and college.” He sits up again and turns his big, dorky grin on Keith. He looks like a giant puppy. “Do you realize this is the first summer in like, seven years that we haven’t had summer reading? I can read whatever I want this year!”

Keith laughs. Shiro is the only nerd at this party excited more about his literary freedom than the ability to attend parties on weeknights, or whatever other people get excited about. Keith absolutely adores that about him. It’s another thing on the never-ending list of reasons why his best friend has ruined him for any other man.

“Oh yeah? What are you gonna read?” he asks, just to hear him talk about it some more.

“I dunno. Maybe Watership Down. I’ve never had time to read that one before. Or maybe I’ll get really crazy and go for like, Moby Dick or Atlas Shrugged! Or! I can reread all of the Harry Potter books!” Shiro’s invisible labrador tail is wagging.

“Yeah, Shiro, you have all the freedom in the world to reread Harry Potter,” Keith laughs. “Go wild.”

“I will!”

He’s grinning so big, and he looks so happy, it’s enough to make Keith forget any weirdness he thought he still sensed between them. Shiro loves him, he knows, and all friendships go through rough patches. They’ve been friends for over a decade. It was bound to happen sometime.

Shiro heaves a big sigh and flops back onto the couch again. “I thought I was never gonna get over it, you know?” he says. “The breakup, I mean.” Keith waits for him to continue. “But I’m actually happy now! Crazy, right? Six years down the drain, but now that’s it’s been over for a while, I’m actually relieved.” He turns to Keith with big, imploring eyes. “Does that make me heartless?”

Keith barely resists brushing Shiro’s fluffy bangs out of his face. “Of course not. You deserve some time to yourself. You deserve to be happy. You don’t have to stay heartbroken forever.”

“Thanks, Keith.” Shiro smiles. “You’re the best friend a guy could ever have.”

“As long as I’m _your_ best friend, that’s all I need.”

They’re too close, and the eye contact is too intimate. He’s overcome with the urge to kiss Shiro, and he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that it won’t be welcome. Instead, he reaches up and gives Shiro’s shoulder a firm squeeze, creating space between them at the same time.

“Thanks for dragging me here,” he says. “I needed this, too.”

____________________

Change is difficult.

The first semester of school is… an adjustment, to say the least. Keith misses his dad more than he thought was possible. He misses his mom a lot, too, and it’s obvious that she’s not doing as well without him home, either. It’s hard. He should call her more than he does, but the work is different and he keeps weird hours.

He sees Shiro as much as he can, but since they weren’t speaking when it came time to send in their enrollments, they were both assigned random roommates and didn’t get the same class schedule. He finds himself missing Shiro a lot, even though he sees him at least two or three times a week. Still, it’s a steep drop from how they were before.

He sees James sometimes, too, but they live on opposite sides of the campus, and James pledged a fraternity that takes up a ton of his time.

It’s lonely. Keith has never been great at making friends. But he’s trying.

Keith’s roommate, Rolo, is okay. He’s a lazy stoner, but he’s pretty smart and happens to be taking the same Intro to Engineering class as Keith, which comes in handy. Sometimes he brings his girlfriend around, who he met the first week of classes, but at least he asks when he needs the room instead of just kicking Keith out.

Shiro ended up with a really nice, really smart roommate who’s going into engineering, too. He cooks all the time, and after a few weeks of devouring brownies and cupcakes and homemade pretzels and skillet pizza (all made in the hall kitchen, which now draws crowds every time Hunk is in there), Shiro had to start hitting the gym extra hard to work off the extra pounds.

(Keith didn’t think it was such a problem. “You still look better than every other guy on this campus,” he told him. Shiro just blushed and shrugged it off; he’s always been too modest.)

Winter break helps a bit, since he’s able to spend the whole thing with Shiro, Shiro’s family, and most importantly, his mom. They’re closer now, since everything, and though it’s hard to leave her by herself again, he promises he’ll call more, and he intends to keep that promise.


	3. Ascent

There’s a fine line between hopelessness and contentedness. As he grows, Keith starts to learn how to reframe his outlook: he’s not _hopelessly pining_ for his best friend, he’s just _content_ with staying single, if the alternative means being with someone he doesn’t really love.

Spring semester is better. He’s gotten the hang of how classes work, has a better grip on his study and sleep schedule, and has hit a good rhythm with Rolo. They’re actually sort of friends, now.

James has more free time in the spring, too. Keith is eighteen and pent up, especially after gym sessions with Shiro, and since no one in James’ fraternity knows he’s gay yet, they’ve gone back to using each other to blow off steam.

They’re in the middle of a particularly steamy make-out session when they’re interrupted by Keith’s roommate banging the door open.

“Oh, shit, sorry man,” Rolo says as Keith springs back off of James. “Just gotta grab my bag. Got a group project meeting.”

“No problem,” James mutters. His cheeks are flaming.

Rolo throws a lazy wave over his shoulder as the door shuts behind him. Keith moves to pick back up where they left off, but James puts a hand to his chest to hold him back and scoots up to a seated position.

“Keith,” he says, resigned. Keith doesn’t even need to hear what’s coming next to know that this is finally it for them. “Don’t you ever want a real relationship?”

Keith says nothing, just waits for James to make his point.

“You know, something with like, romance and emotion and love? Don’t you think it would be nice to be with someone and know that there might actually be a future there?”

“You know I do,” Keith says. He can’t help but feel like it’s a little bit of a cheap shot, considering how intimately James knows exactly how badly he wants that, but he knows James doesn’t mean it as a dig.

“Well then...” James picks at his fingernail. It’s a nervous habit Keith has picked up on over the course of their friendship. Worry starts to prickle at the back of his skull; Will they stay friends? If they take away the physical part of their relationship, what’s left? Will his personality alone be enough to keep James around? “I’m just thinking that, I dunno, maybe it’s time to start looking for someone. Like, someone who actually _likes_ me, you know? Like a boyfriend.”

Keith knows James is right. He knows he’s right, but it still stings in that irrational part of his brain that says, _You’re not good enough. You’ll never be enough for anyone._

“Keith?”

“Yeah,” he chokes out. “Of course. You deserve that chance.”

James’ eyes soften too much. It feels like pity, and Keith can’t stand it. “You do, too,” James says.

Keith wants to scream. He wants to punch James and remind him that he _knows_ it’s not possible for him. He wants to tell him that if anyone in the world should know exactly how _not possible_ it is for Keith to find someone for himself, that Keith has, in fact, already found that person, and that person doesn’t want him, James should know.

He doesn’t do that. He’s grown up enough over the past year to know that yelling and punching doesn’t help anything. It won’t change anything. It won’t make anyone stick around. It won’t bring anyone back.

So instead, he says nothing.

“We can still hang out,” James offers tentatively. “Just maybe... not with our tongues down each other’s throats.”

The stupid joke actually does help a little. It helps to know that he has a chance of keeping his friend.

“Just promise me it won’t be weird between us,” Keith whispers.

“Of course not,” James says. “I wouldn’t do that.”

Keith lets himself believe him.

____________________

“Don’t get mad,” Shiro says one day as they’re studying in the library.

“That’s a promising start,” Keith mutters. He’s trying to work through an equation that he’s attempted three times already, but it’s not working out.

Shiro puts down his pencil and settles a hand on Keith’s. The contact still jolts electricity through his arm. No matter how long he’s known Shiro, or how many thousands of times Shiro has touched him, it still sets his nerves on fire.

“I know you hate this kind of thing, and I promise I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t think it was a good fit, so just hear me out, okay?”

Keith sighs. “Okay.”

“There’s this guy in my circuits class that I think you’d really like. He’s smart, interesting, nice. Doesn’t talk too much but can carry on a conversation. And he’s cute. Like, really cute.”

“So why don’t _you_ date him?”

Shiro shrugs. “I just think you two would get along. He reminds me a lot of you.”

Ah. So that explains why Shiro isn’t interested.

The equation is a lost cause. He’s not going to have the attention span to work it out tonight.

“I’m not looking for anyone,” Keith grouses. There’s a pause, which Keith tries not to think of as loaded. It’s been a year since his unfortunate late-night almost-confession; there’s no reason for him to think that Shiro still feels weird about it, or that Shiro should even think it still applies.

Nevertheless, when Keith looks up at him, Shiro’s doing his damned best (and failing) at trying to keep his expression neutral. Keith sighs again. _Whatever_.

“Fine. Give him my number.”

“Don’t you want to know what he looks like?” Shiro asks. _No_ , Keith wants to say. _It doesn’t matter anyway_.

“Sure.”

Shiro spends the next ten minutes showing him the guy’s twitter. There are a few pictures of himself interspersed between quippy one-liners that are surprisingly funny. The guy _does_ seem to be genuinely interesting. Maybe one night out won’t be so bad.

“He’s cute,” he says, because that’s what he’s supposed to say. He _is_ cute, but it’s moot, because Keith isn’t looking for anyone.

“I knew you’d like him!” Shiro beams. “I’ll text him right now.”

He does, and a few minutes later, when Keith has almost forgotten about it, he gets a text from an unknown number.

_Hey, this is Ryan. Shiro gave me your number. Hope that’s okay._

_It’s cool_ , Keith sends back.

_Cool._

He waits a few seconds, then another message comes through.

_Would you like to get dinner tomorrow night? There’s a decent sushi place right off campus. I can drive._

_Decent? Is that the best you can do?_

_Yeah, man. It’s a small town._

That actually makes Keith laugh, so he figures, _what the hell_.

_Okay. See you tomorrow._

_Pick you up at 7._

The ride there is predictably awkward. Keith doesn’t make a habit of getting into cars with strangers, or going on blind dates, or dating at all. He doesn’t know what to talk about or where to put his hands. He wore something that Shiro said was appropriately nice, but not _too_ nice, and he keeps nervously fidgeting with his sleeve where it’s rolled up just above his elbow.

“It’s weird, right?” Ryan asks when they’re seated at the table.

“What?”

Keith is trying to look at his menu, but he’s too focused on trying to find something to say and knows he’s just going to pick the first two rolls he sees when the server comes back anyway.

“It’s cool,” Ryan says, seemingly unbothered Keith’s awkwardness. “I don’t really do blind dates, either. Shiro’s a nice guy, though, and he showed me your picture, so here I am.”

Keith looks over his menu at his date. He’s tall — right around Shiro’s height, he’d noticed when they walked in — with deep, dark eyes and strong facial features. He’s the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, but what grabs Keith’s attention is his words.

“You liked my picture?”

Ryan sets down his own menu. “Yeah, man. You’re really hot. I’m sure you’ve heard that a thousand times, though.”

“Oh. Um. Thank you.” Keith’s eyes drop back to his menu, still propped up in front of him.

“You haven’t?”

Keith shrugs. “I dunno. I guess I haven’t really, uh, been in that kind of situation many times before.”

Ryan looks at him for a moment, and Keith gets the feeling that he’s being read, which is odd, considering he only knows three people who can read him, and one of them is his mother.

“Well, you’re crazy hot,” Ryan says, matter-of-fact. Keith begins to blush. “Like, seriously hot.” He continues to look at his menu nonchalantly, like he’s not about to make steam come out of Keith’s ears. “The kind of hot that I’d actually brag to my straight friends about if we hooked up.”

The comment startles a laugh out of Keith, and he knows his face must be cherry red. “Wouldn’t know what that’s like,” he remarks offhand. He knows Ryan is trying to help him relax, and it’s working.

“What, hooking up?”

“Mm. Or having straight friends.”

Ryan grins around an easy laugh. It’s the first time he’s cracked a smile since their date began, though Keith doesn’t take it personally; he rarely smiles around strangers, either.

“Just kidding,” Keith says with a tiny smirk. “I have one straight friend.”

The server comes back before Keith gets a chance to choose anything, so, as is his way, he picks the first two rolls that sound good and hands off his menu.

“Game time decision?”

Keith smiles. “I’m not picky.”

The date goes decently well. Ryan really does seem like a nice guy, and he _can_ hold a conversation, and Keith would have to be blind to not be attracted to him.

But at the end of the night, when Ryan walks him to his door and leans in for a goodnight kiss, Keith turns away.

“Oh, sorry,” Ryan says. “I thought—”

“It’s not you,” Keith says. Ryan drops his hands, which had been resting on Keith’s hips. “It’s just... Don’t take it the wrong way. You’re really hot, too, and it was a nice date.”

“But…?” Ryan prompts. Keith doesn’t say anything. “Oh,” Ryan says, realization dawning. “But you have feelings for someone else.” Keith nods.

“...You’re in love with Shiro.” Keith nods again, shame flushing his cheeks.

“It’s fine, man,” Ryan says. “I had a good time, but it’s not a love connection. Don’t worry about it.”

Keith exhales a shaky breath. “Thanks. I’m really sorry.”

“No worries.”

They stand there awkwardly, neither knowing how to end a first date that ends with one party confessing his love for another man.

“Got any hot friends?” Ryan jokes, elbowing Keith in the arm. It helps diffuse some of the tension.

“Oh!” Keith is hit with either a brilliant or an incredibly bad idea. “Actually, I know someone I think you’d really like.”

It works out much better for James.

It should be weird watching the guy he used to make out with make heart-eyes at the only guy he’s ever been on a date with, but it isn’t. They’re actually really, really good together.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out between you and Ryan,” Shiro remarks a few weeks later. “I thought you guys would be a good match.”

“It’s really fine, Shiro,” Keith laughs. “You don’t have to keep feeling bad about it. I’m the one who chose to introduce him to James, remember?”

Shiro grumbles. “Still feels wrong that anyone would choose _Griffin_ over you.”

“Shiro!” Keith grins at his ridiculous best friend. “It’s been _years_. Are you ever going to let go of this grudge?”

“Probably not,” Shiro shrugs, a small smile tugging on the corner of his pretty lips. “I just care about you, and I want you to be happy.”

“I know. Thanks.”

“Keith?”

“Yeah?”

He twiddles his thumbs as he decides how to ask Keith whatever is on his mind. “Did things not work out because he’s not right for you, or because you didn’t want to try?”

Keith sighs. He’s known this conversation was going to happen eventually. “Little of column A, little of column B.”

“Keith...”

“Shiro, come on. I’m happy with how things are. Why isn’t that enough?”

There’s another pause, and Shiro relents with a rueful smile. “It is. I’m sorry. As long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters.”

Keith exhales, hoping that’s the end of it. “Right.” He smiles back. “Thanks for understanding.”

____________________

Shiro, however, is not happy with the way things are. Keith has grown very used to the idea of always loving Shiro and never having him, but it hurts in a way he isn’t expecting to see Shiro go on date after date with guys who will never be good enough for him.

“How does this shirt look?”

“Amazing, just like every other shirt,” Keith drawls, lazily flipping through his textbook. He’s spending his evening rewriting his notes, because the ones he took in class all week are messy and incomplete.

“Keith,” Shiro sighs. “Come on. I’d really like your opinion.”

Keith puts down his pen and takes a deep breath, trying not to let his temper flare. He looks at his friend, all eager and worried eyes, and reminds himself that he loves this man, even if he is an idiot.

“Seriously, Shiro. You look good in everything, and you know it. But if you’re that worried about it, wear the black one. You look good in black.”

“Doesn’t that look a little desperate? Like I’m trying too hard?”

Hunk wheels away from his desk, where he’s been working on a lab report, to ask, “How does black look like you’re trying too hard?”

Shiro’s eyes are bugging a little when he says, “You know, like, because it’s slimming? Or because I’m trying to look edgy?”

Keith and Hunk both stare at him. Keith tries to remind himself, yet again, that Shiro is his best friend, and a good person, and _not an absolute dumbass_.

“Riiight, okay, well, good luck with that,” Hunk says, turning back to his laptop.

“Wear the dark purple, then,” Keith says, unwilling to spend another second on this topic of conversation.

Shiro claps his hands together. “Perfect!”

The dark purple is the second one he tried on twenty minutes ago.

“You staying to study?” Hunk asks Keith after Shiro heads out.

“If you don’t mind.” He’s making good progress on his notes, which have gotten increasingly more detailed and organized now that Shiro’s going out two or three nights a week and James is generally occupied with Ryan.

Hunk passes him a bag of extra large marshmallows. “Make yourself at home.”

It’s not a surprise when, two hours later, Shiro turns up flustered and disappointed.

Hunk doesn’t even look up when he asks, “What was wrong with this one?”

Shiro flops backward onto his bed. “I just don’t understand how so many guys can be so cute and so utterly uninteresting.”

Keith doesn’t let the sting of that sentiment get to him. Plenty of people find him attractive, he reminds himself. Two of his closest friends do.

“Maybe they’re not interesting because they’ve skated by on being attractive their whole lives,” Hunk says.

“Hey!”

Keith scoffs. “Shiro, you’re hot _and_ interesting. Don’t even try to be offended.”

“As if you’re one to talk,” Shiro mumbles.

Keith raises an eyebrow. “I never claimed to be anything.”

Shiro flushes, for god-only-knows what reason. “Whatever.” He huffs a dramatic sigh. “It’s just starting to feel like I’m not gonna find someone.”

Hunk walks over to hand him a brownie and sits on his own bed. “Stop being a drama queen.”

“You’re making me fat and that’s why boys don’t like me.”

“Literally every boy likes you, and no I’m not. So stop.”

Keith studiously ignores the conversation. It’s no longer pertinent to his interests, and he doesn’t take any pleasure in being overlooked.

“What do you want, Shiro?” Hunk asks. “In a boyfriend, I mean. Maybe you need to stop dating everyone you meet and start looking for people who might actually be compatible with you. And also, maybe try having a conversation or two with someone before asking them out.”

“You’re gonna go broke if you keep paying for everyone’s dinner,” Keith butts in despite his previous resolution to stay out of it.

“It’s not my fault I was raised to be a gentlemen,” Shiro argues petulantly.

Keith rolls his eyes. “I was there while you were being raised. You were also raised to be responsible with your money and have some self-respect.”

“ _Rude_.”

“Right,” Keith corrects.

“No, Keith is right,” Hunk interjects. “Have some self-respect and stop being desperate. Desperation might help you find a boyfriend, but he probably won’t be the right guy for you.”

Shiro continues to pout. He claims he doesn’t pout, but he pouts harder than anyone Keith knows. It’s adorable, of course, but it’s harder to appreciate how cute Shiro is when he’s being a pain in the ass.

“You guys are mean,” he whines. He also claims he doesn’t whine, but, well.

“Come on, Shiro. Let’s make this list. Narrow things down a little.” Hunk is already creating a new Excel sheet titled _Shiro’s Dream Guy_.

Shiro continues to pout and sulk about his _terrible luck with men_ , so Hunk gets them started.

“Okay, let’s start with ‘interesting’. You’re always complaining about your dates not being interesting. So... hobbies? An interest in school? Well-traveled?”

“Put ‘interest in travel’,” Keith says. “Shiro has a ton of places on his bucket list. He’ll need a travel buddy.”

“Okay, done. What else?”

Keith thinks about it. What kind of guy would be good enough for Shiro?

“Someone driven, but willing to compromise. Someone who doesn’t expect Shiro to plan his life around him but who’s willing to work things out together.”

“Good. Keep going.”

“Good sense of humor. Like, someone who’s genuinely funny, not just someone who laughs at other people’s jokes. Shiro loves to laugh.”

He shoots Shiro a look while Hunk types, looking for either approval or disapproval of his assessment so far. Shiro doesn’t say anything, but he’s watching Keith, so Keith takes it as an indication to keep going.

“Shiro can be pretty dark, too, so probably someone who isn’t easily offended by that kind of thing.”

“Oh yeah, that took some getting used to,” Hunk agrees. “Definitely gotta find someone who matches his weird.”

“And, uh.” Keith thinks for a moment. “Someone to take care of him,” he says softly. “Sometimes he forgets to do things like eat or sleep when he’s really stressed— and you’ve been great about making sure he at least eats, but if Shiro is going to get serious with someone, they should be able to take care of him when he needs it.”

The idea of Shiro getting serious with someone twists his gut. It’s inevitable. One day, he really will be out of Keith’s reach for good. Keith has been trailing behind him for years, reaching toward him and holding on for dear life as Shiro sprints toward his own future. One day, maybe soon, he’s going to be so far ahead that Keith can’t touch him anymore, and someone else will be by Shiro’s side, helping him move forward.

“Anything else?” Hunk asks.

“Kind,” Shiro finally chimes in. “Someone with a beautiful smile. And he has to challenge me. Someone who won’t let me give up on myself.”

Hunk types everything into the doc. Keith can’t even look at Shiro right now.

 _Kind. Funny. Beautiful smile._ Not to mention Shiro’s physical type — tall, tan, built — the opposite of everything Keith is.

Keith isn’t nice to people. It’s why it’s taken him nearly twenty years to make friends.

Keith isn’t funny. He doesn’t make jokes. He barely _gets_ them half the time, unless Shiro is the one making them.

Keith doesn’t smile. It’s not that he’s particularly unhappy, it’s just not a natural expression for him. His mom rarely smiles, either. He gets it from her.

And Keith is definitely not Shiro’s physical type. That’s been well-established for a long time, and even if it wasn’t, Keith would have figured it out based on Shiro’s last three dates and that guy he made out with at James’ fraternity party last month. That really sucked.

“Alright, well, I’m pretty much done with my notes, so I should probably head back,” Keith says. “Still need to do laundry.” He starts packing up, ready for an exciting night of playing mobile games while sitting on top of his washer to stop people from throwing his clothes on the floor, when Shiro stops him.

“Wait, why don’t you stay?”

They haven’t spent the night with each other since they got to college. Not for any weird reason— mostly just because they have roommates, and apparently it’s not normal to have (non-sexual) overnight guests when you share a room with another dude.

Hunk says nothing. It’s neither an invitation nor a dismissal. This is a Keith-and-Shiro thing.

Keith shifts nervously. “Like I said, I need to do laundry, so...”

“You can do laundry tomorrow. Come on, it’s been forever since we had a sleepover. It’s Friday night, there’s no class tomorrow, and you can borrow a pair of my pajama pants just like we used to do when we were kids.”

He looks so excited and sweet, Keith can’t say no to him.

“Okay,” he agrees. “Fine. But only if Hunk says it’s okay.”

Hunk’s phone vibrates on his desk at that exact moment. Hunk glances at the screen and then swipes the message open. “Oh, thank god,” he breathes, then says, “Actually, I just got a text from Romelle, so I’m gonna hang out at her place tonight. She has her own room so uh, don’t expect me back tonight.” He stuffs his laptop and a couple of overnight things into his backpack and takes off. “You two have fun.”

And then they’re alone.

Although Keith is worried at first that things might be weird, it’s refreshingly easy. It’s like every other night they’ve hung out since they’ve known each other— fun and chill and completely carefree. It’s exactly what Keith has been desperately needing, because by the time they settle in for bed, Keith knows that no matter what happens, he’ll always be happy as long as Shiro is still his best friend.

He’s getting comfortable on the floor with some of Shiro’s extra blankets when Shiro comes back from brushing his teeth, shirtless and looking like the Greek god he was modeled after.

“What are you doing?”

Keith forcibly closes his mouth to stop himself from gaping. “Getting settled,” he says.

“What? No, you can’t sleep on the floor.”

Keith narrows his eyes at him. “Well, I can’t sleep in Hunk’s bed, and I’m definitely not letting _you_ sleep on the floor in your own room.”

Shiro just throws a pair of sleep pants at him. “I was thinking we could just share,” he chuckles.

It feels like all of the air has been sucked out of the room. Shiro can’t possibly expect them to share knowing how Keith feels, can he? Or maybe he’s forgotten? No, Shiro doesn’t forget things. Maybe he just thinks it’s been long enough that Keith should be over it by now. Yeah, that’s probably right. Keith can work with that.

He stands and shucks his jeans. He refuses to acknowledge the heat he can feel on his ears and prays that Shiro doesn’t notice. He pulls the sleep pants on — blue with little fluffy white sheep — and ties the drawstring; he doesn’t need any mishaps involving his pants slipping while he’s sharing a bed with Shiro. He’s going to have enough trouble _keeping his distance_ , as it were, in the tiny twin bed as is.

“Okay,” Keith says. “No problem.”

But it’s a big problem.

The minute they lie next to each other, the bed shrinks to half its size. He can feel all of Shiro pressed against every inch of him, and the only way to put distance between them is to fall off the edge of the bed. When Shiro laughs, it jostles him and makes the whole bed shake.

“This is ridiculous,” Shiro says. “Come here.” He turns on his side and opens his arms to Keith.

 _This is it,_ Keith thinks. _This is how I die_.

He turns over and scoots into Shiro’s arms, immediately becoming engulfed in the familiar scent of Shiro’s body wash and natural musk as Shiro’s strong arm pulls him close.

“That’s better,” Shiro murmurs sleepily. He’s already starting to drift off. “I’m glad you’re here,” he says.

Keith sighs and allows himself to drape an arm around Shiro’s waist. So much for keeping their space. “Me too,” he whispers, because it’s true. There’s no place in the universe he’d rather be.

His nose brushes up against Shiro’s throat when he breathes, and Shiro’s exhale ruffles his bangs. He drifts off to the sound of Shiro’s steady breathing with a smile on his face.

In the morning, Keith wakes to the feeling of being snuggled closer to a broad, naked chest.

“Morning,” Shiro rumbles. He takes a long, deep breath, stretching his legs out but not relinquishing his hold on Keith.

“Morning,” Keith rasps. He’s awake enough to enjoy the feeling, but still asleep enough to not be ashamed of the way he curls into Shiro’s warmth.

There’s a hand twirling the long hairs that almost reach his shoulder blades.

“Soft,” Shiro murmurs. Keith feels his voice as much as he hears it.

“Mm.”

“Your hair is always so soft. Don’t know how you do it.”

Keith makes a sound that he hopes conveys the “I don’t know” he’s not willing to voice.

Shiro just snuggles him again and re-tangles their legs. It’s only then that Keith realizes he’s _definitely_ not keeping his distance. He tries to pull back, but Shiro hugs him close and huffs a laugh.

“It’s fine, Keith. It’s normal. Don’t go yet.”

So Keith just breathes and indulges his need to be as close to Shiro as possible.

They drift in and out of sleep for a couple of hours, snuggled together that way.

By the time they wake up for good, Keith’s skin is clammy and sticky from the heat of being so close to another body for so long. It’s satisfying and uncomfortable and the best night’s sleep Keith has ever had.

“I never took you for such a cuddler,” Shiro remarks around a stretch.

Keith buries his face in the pillow. “Shut up.”

Shiro laughs. “No, it’s sweet! You make a good stuffed animal. Like an octopus.” Keith attempts to glare at him, and Shiro shoots Keith a devastating wink, setting Keith’s heart fluttering. There’s no way Shiro doesn’t see the blush he’s sporting now, no way he doesn’t understand the effect he has on Keith. But Shiro doesn’t seem bothered by it, and Keith is too pleased to try to think himself out of it right now.

His stomach lets out a grizzly growl. “Breakfast?” he asks. His voice is still rough with disuse.

“Yeah, Batman. Let’s go to the good place. My treat.”

Keith beams and stretches his tingling limbs. It’s the best morning he’s had in years.

It’s probably the best morning of his entire life.

____________________

It’s not as if their relationship over the past year has been bad, but now that things are totally back to normal, it’s like a breath of fresh air.

Shiro still attempts to go on dates, but the numbers dwindle week to week until Shiro only goes when someone else works up the courage to ask him, which is rare, especially considering how quickly the word has spread that he’s a serial heartbreaker who turns down second dates with everyone he takes out.

He has way more free time and chooses to spend virtually all of it with Keith. He’s even gotten more comfortable hanging out with James and Ryan, which means Keith no longer has to keep their friendships separate. All in all, it’s basically the ideal situation. They even have the occasional sleepover, and Shiro is never weird about the cuddling. In fact, he seems to really enjoy it.

Keith is definitely not complaining.

“So, you and Shiro seem like you’ve gotten pretty close,” Hunk says one day as Keith is lying on the floor of their room waiting for Shiro to get back from class.

Keith shrugs. “We’ve always been close.”

“Well, you seem closer than usual lately. Way closer than you were when I first met you guys.”

That gives Keith pause. He’s never stopped to think about just how different their behavior might seem to the people who are relatively new in their lives.

“We were like this before we got to college,” he explains. “We’ve been friends since we were kids, and we’ve always been super close. Things were just weird for a while, but they’re better now.”

“Why were they weird?” Hunk asks.

Keith props himself up on his elbows. “He’s never mentioned it?”

Hunk takes a moment to think, stroking his chin with his lip jutted out. “No, not that I can think of,” he eventually concludes. “But he talks about you a lot more, now. Like, _a lot_ more.”

Something flutters in Keith’s chest. “Shiro talks about me?”

“Oh yeah, all the time.” Hunk waves the question away with one hand and rifles through his desk with the other. “Here, have some fruit snacks and tell me all about your relationship with my roommate.”

“Um, well.” Keith fiddles with the fruit snacks’ foil wrapper, unsure where — or if — to start. “It’s kind of personal, I guess. I’m not sure if he wants anyone else to know, especially since he hasn’t told you.”

“Oh, buddy,” Hunk _tsks_. “He’s told me stuff I definitely did not need to know. He’s like, an open book. If he’s not saying something, it’s because he thinks _you_ don’t want other people to know.”

And, well, that’s pretty true of how Shiro behaves with his friends, not that he’s really had many throughout his life besides Keith and Adam, and Adam is long gone. What if he’s been dying for someone to talk to about all of this but couldn’t, because the only person he could go to was Keith?

“Promise not to like, laugh or tell anyone or make it weird with Shiro or anything?” he asks tentatively. “Because I really like our relationship now, and I don’t know if I can deal with another year of weirdness and tiptoeing around my feelings.”

“Oooh, _feelings_ ,” Hunk says. “Yeah, totally. I promise.”

Keith takes a deep breath. “Okay, well...”

He tells Hunk about the night Shiro and Adam broke up. He tells him about his father dying, and how lonely it had been, and about him and James and how much that relationship has always bothered Shiro.

By the time he finishes his story, they’re expecting Shiro back at any minute.

“Man, that’s a lot going on,” Hunk says. “I don’t know many other friendships that could come back from that kind of weirdness. You guys are really special.”

Keith feels his face heat up from the praise. “Thanks.”

“Thanks for sharing that with me,” Hunk says. “So it’s not like, super weird watching James and Ryan hang all over each other all the time now? There aren’t residual feelings there, or whatever?”

Keith scoffs. “As if.”

“No?” Hunk tilts his head. “You guys were together for like, years, right? Nothing?”

“We weren’t _together_ together. We were just, you know—” he picks at the carpet for something to focus on other than Hunk’s imploring look “—friends with benefits.”

“So you _did_ sleep together.”

Shiro chooses that moment to return home. He looks between the two of them, brow furrowed like he gets when he’s upset about something. “Who slept together?”

“ _No one_ ,” Keith vehemently denies. “No, Hunk, we did not.” His face, neck, and ears burn from the attention. This is not something he’d wanted to bring up in front of Shiro again. “Nothing, uh, below the belt,” he mumbles.

“Ohhhh, gotcha,” Hunk says. He shoots Shiro a raised eyebrow, then throws him a pack of fruit snacks as well. “Just getting caught up on Keith’s sordid past,” he says innocently.

“ _Dude_ ,” Keith hisses.

“O-oh?” Shiro drops his things and plops down next to Keith, ripping open his fruit snacks and picking out his least favorites first. “Well, don’t let me interrupt.”

“Hunk was just asking how I felt about James and Ryan, which you already know since we’ve talked about it before. _That’s all_ ,” he says, pointedly.

Shiro looks back and forth between the two of them as he chews. “Okay. Whatever.”

Keith’s not sure if he’s imagining the way Shiro scoots a little closer to him.

____________________

Summer break is the first time Keith feels truly at peace since everything that happened the previous year. He has some distance between himself and those horrible memories, now. He’s made new ones to help soothe the ache of healing wounds.

It’s a relief to be home for a while, too. As much as Keith has enjoyed his first year of college, he’s happy to spend some time with his mom and catch up, just the two of them. She seems better. Apparently, she’s been spending a lot of time with Shiro’s parents and some old friends that Keith has never gotten to meet.

Another welcome development is how easy it is to fall back into old habits with Shiro, back in their old, familiar environment. The only major change is that now, if they fall asleep on the floor playing video games, they end up curled together on the nest of pillows and blankets, rather than sprawled out all over the floor.

It’s a new normal that he’s grown to love and cherish. It doesn’t matter that it’s all platonic; what matters is that they’ve both grown and matured over the past year, and their friendship is not only stronger than ever, but deeper and more intimate for the obstacles they’ve overcome together.

____________________

Time flies when you’re having fun, or so they say. Admittedly, college is a lot more fun now that Keith has a set group of friends, and Shiro isn’t wasting all of his time trying to date every guy on campus.

“So, you guys got any plans for New Year’s?” Hunk asks halfway through November. “Gonna spend it at home or come back for that big frat thing?”

Keith and Shiro exchange a look. They haven’t actually talked about it, since it’s a while away. They still have the last month of classes to get through.

“We’ll probably decide over Thanksgiving,” Shiro says. “Gotta talk to the ‘rents first.”

Keith snorts. “Really, Shiro? ‘The ‘rents’? What year is it?” Keith elbows him, nearly knocking him off balance, which prompts Shiro to wrap an arm around Keith’s waist to pull himself back up and anchor himself in place.

“Shut up, I’m hip,” Shiro retorts. “Right, Hunk?”

“So hip,” Hunk deadpans. “Well, whatever. Let me know what you guys decide. I’ll probably come back for it if everyone else does, but I’m not going by myself.”

“What’s Romelle doing?” Shiro asks.

Hunk shrugs. “We haven’t talked about it yet, but she’ll probably come back, too, if we can all go as a group.”

“Well, that’s something to think about,” Shiro says, turning his gaze on Keith. “What do you think?”

“I gotta talk to my mom, but if she’s got other plans, I could come back.”

“Could be nice to spend New Year’s together,” Shiro says, eyes going soft. It makes Keith’s heart stutter and his breath hitch.

“We always spend New Year’s together,” he counters.

Shiro rolls his eyes fondly. “Yeah, with our parents,” he says. “It might be fun like, going to a party with all of our friends, ringing in the new year without our parents looking over our shoulders.”

He has a point. As much as Keith loves that their families are so close, and as much as he doesn’t want to leave his mom alone, he has to admit that spending the New Year with a group of friends for the first time in his life and then going home with Shiro afterward sounds really fucking good.

“Okay,” he agrees. “As long as Mom has someone to spend it with, I’m in.”

“I’ll make sure my parents take care of her.”

Keith can’t help but smile. He can’t believe it, but for the first time since before his dad died, he’s actually looking forward to something.

Before he knows it, it’s Thanksgiving break, and he and Shiro are on their way home for the week.

“Excited to see your mom?” Shiro asks.

Keith tries to stop his bouncing knee and laughs at his own obvious tell. “How’d you know?” he drawls. Shiro reaches over and pats his thigh, giving it a squeeze that makes butterflies erupt in his stomach.

“It’s sweet that you two have gotten so close,” Shiro says. “Keith... I know it’s been hard, these past couple of years, and I just want you to know that no matter what, I’m always going to be here for you. For anything.”

The lump that has mysteriously appeared in his throat makes it difficult to speak, but he still manages to say, “I know. Thanks.”

“I mean it,” Shiro continues. “I just want to be super clear about that. No matter what it is, you have me. Always.”

Keith nods in lieu of saying anything. He resolutely ignores the stinging behind his eyes, instead resting his hand on top of Shiro’s, still on his thigh, and squeezes his thanks. Shiro’s thumb rubs a soothing rhythm against his leg. For a few minutes, neither of them says anything.

They pull up to Shiro’s house a few hours later, and much to Keith’s surprise, his mom greets them at the door alongside Shiro’s parents.

“Welcome home, boys!” Mrs. Shirogane greets, wrapping them both up in a big hug. When she’s done with them, Keith beelines straight for his own mom and hugs her tight.

“Welcome home, kid,” she says.

“Hi, Mom.”

She pulls him back to give him a good once-over. “You look good. Been eating well? Exercising?”

Keith rolls his eyes. “Yes, Mom.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve been making sure he’s in great health,” Shiro says with a wink.

Keith squawks. “Excuse me? I’m the one who has to make sure you remember all of your meals. Thank god for Hunk or I’d have to move in with you just so you don’t die.”

The moms exchange a look.

“Who’s Hunk?” Shiro’s mother asks.

Shiro squints at her. “Hunk. You know, my roommate. Since last year?”

“Huh,” she says. “I assumed you two were living together this year.”

“No?” Shiro says. “Don’t you think we would have told you?”

They exchange another look.

“Why do you guys keep looking at each other?” Keith asks, squinting between their mothers.

“No reason,” Krolia says with a wave. “There’s always next year.”

It’s the boys’ turn to exchange a look of their own. It’s not something they’ve discussed yet, though it’s definitely been on Keith’s mind. It made sense to stick with their roommates this year since they were staying on campus, but next year, they’re both looking to find an off-campus apartment. The only downside of living with Shiro would be if Shiro got a boyfriend. Keith’s not sure he could deal with that.

“Okay, everyone inside. You’re letting the heat out,” Shiro’s father says, herding them into the house. “We were thinking pizza tonight, since tomorrow’s the big day.”

“Sounds great,” Shiro agrees. “We haven’t had pizza in forever.”

His mother sets about pulling out plates for all five of them. “Oh no? I’d have thought you boys were eating pizza every other night.”

“Sure are doing a lot of assuming today...” Shiro mutters. Keith kicks him in the shin under the table.

“Be nice,” he whispers. “We’ve been home for like six minutes.”

“Alright, what’ll it be?” Mr. Shirogane asks, though he already knows the answer. “Mushroom and pineapple for Takashi, meat lovers for the Koganes, and a veggie for us, dear?”

There’s a chorus of “sounds great” and “perfect” from the others, and he places the order for delivery.

It’s fun and embarrassing and comfortable catching up with their families again. Not for the first time, Keith finds himself grateful for how close they all are — not just for himself, but for his mom. They play fight over the last slice of pizza, poke fun at Shiro for how stacked he’s gotten in college (and he has, _oh boy_ he has), and talk about the friends they’ve made and the classes they’re taking.

When Keith and Krolia are ready to leave for the night, Keith is feeling fat and happy.

“Doing good?” she asks him when they’re alone.

“Yeah,” he says, and is pleased to realize he really means it.

“I’m glad. I’ve been so worried about you. You haven’t seemed happy for a while.”

Keith frowns. He hates worrying her, and he hates thinking that she’s been hurting for him when he hasn’t meant for her to. She smooths out the wrinkle in his brow and encourages him to smile again.

“I’m really good. It’s been hard, but things are finally starting to feel good again.”

“And between you and Shiro?” she asks with forced nonchalance.

“Really good. Finally back to the way things were.”

“ _Just_ the way they were? There’s nothing more there?”

“ _Mom_.” His mom has known about his feelings for Shiro for years, of course, but she’s never pestered him about it like this. “You know it’s not like that between us. He’s my best friend.”

She throws up her hands. “I know, I know. It’s just...”

“What?”

“Well, I thought I sensed some extra tenderness there. He was looking at you... differently.”

Keith’s face must show how bewildered he feels by that statement. “No he wasn’t. He looks at me the same way he always has.”

Krolia raises and eyebrow. “Well, if that’s true, then you’ve been misreading his intentions for a very long time.”

“What—” His traitorous face is warming again. “No I haven’t, and he’s not looking at me differently. He’s not looking at me any kind of way. Except as his best friend.”

“Okay,” Krolia scoffs. She rolls her eyes but doesn’t press further. “Whatever you say. Now go put your stuff away and get some sleep. Early morning tomorrow!”

Thanksgiving day is a _production_.

It starts early with the turkey, of course, and from there, everyone is assigned different tasks requiring the oven at different times for different temperatures. There are traditional Thanksgiving sauces working on two of the eyes, a pot of miso soup on the third, a chopping station, a peeling station, a casserole assembling station, and a clean-up crew that goes behind the cooking team as they work to make space for the next thing. Shiro and Keith primarily man the peeling and chopping stations, then switch over to clean-up after their jobs are done.

It’s a long day full of lots of work for everyone, but it’s always enjoyable spending time with everyone and getting to sneak bits of food while everything cooks.

There’s a special kind of domesticity that Keith feels standing next to Shiro, chopping endless amounts of onions, celery, potatoes, scallions, herbs, mushrooms, and whatever else they need while Shiro peels potatoes and carrots en masse. They stand side-by-side by the sink, Shiro washing and peeling, Keith chopping whatever Shiro passes to him. They talk whenever something comes to mind. Sometimes their fingers brush, or their shoulders touch, and then they share a little smile.

Their parents chit-chat behind them, mostly about whatever is happening around town, occasionally pulling the boys into the conversation.

Keith is missing the booming southern drawl that his dad always brought.

“You okay?” Shiro murmurs. He’s looking at Keith with concern, which is the only reason why Keith notices he’s stopped chopping. Judging by the activity around them, nobody else has noticed.

“I’m fine,” he says, and resumes chopping.

Shiro leans in a little closer. “You sure?”

“I just... miss my dad.”

“Oh,” Shiro says. “Wanna take a walk?”

Keith shakes his head. “We need to finish this or we’ll get off pace for dinner.” He hopes that Shiro understands what he really means — _we need to finish this or else my mom will notice_.

“Alright,” Shiro agrees easily. “After round one of clean-up, then.” Keith nods.

It’s easy enough to take their leave once they clean up the scraps and leave the adults to the assembly.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“I just can’t believe he’s gone sometimes.” Keith takes a deep breath and releases it slowly, trying to get himself under control. “You know I still reach for my phone to call or text him sometimes? It’s pathetic. I should be used to it by now.”

“Keith.” Shiro takes his hand and twines their fingers together. “There’s no right amount of time that you’re allowed to miss your dad. You can miss him for as long as you want.”

They’re just strolling around the periphery of the pond behind Shiro’s house, not wandering too far, but the fresh air is helping a little.

“Yeah, I know, I-I just—” And all at once, he crumples. “I just wish he was still here.” He takes in a shaky breath just before the dam breaks.

Shiro doesn’t say anything, just pulls him close and wraps his arms around him while he cries.

“I’m sorry,” Keith gasps. “I didn’t think I’d—”

“It’s okay,” Shiro soothes. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” He rubs Keith’s back and rocks him gently side-to-side until Keith’s shaking subsides and he can pull back from Shiro’s shoulder. Shiro just wipes his tears and gives him a soft smile.

“Feel better?”

Keith nods. “Thanks.”

“Always.”

“I got your shirt wet,” Keith says after a pause.

Shiro chuckles softly. “I think I’ll survive.” He never fails to make Keith smile. “Ready to head back?”

Keith nods again and lets Shiro lead him the short walk back to the house.

“Everything alright, you two?” Mrs. Shirogane asks.

“Yep, just needed a little fresh air. Lots of smells in here,” Shiro teases, effectively smoothing over the situation without even trying. Keith loves him so much.

“Well, we’re just about done here, so get back to it!”

The rest of the day goes by easily. Shiro is especially attentive, keeping Keith smiling and laughing all day, though that’s always been easy for Shiro. They have dinner, and then after, they head into Shiro’s room for their yearly post-Thanksgiving viewing of Elf. If they snuggle a little closer than usual under the blanket, Keith doesn’t let himself think anything of it.

Krolia doesn’t wake Keith to take him home when she’s ready to go at god-only-knows what time, after the parents have talked and played their fill of card games.

He knows this because he wakes up surrounded by the familiar smell of Shiro’s bedroom, wrapped in Shiro’s favorite fuzzy blanket, head pillowed on Shiro’s chest.

“Morning,” Shiro sighs. “Guess you spent the night.” His tone is light and teasing.

“Guess so,” Keith grunts.

“I’m surprised you didn’t want to sleep in your own bed last night. It’s so comfortable.”

Keith attempts to shrug, still half asleep. “Sleep better with you.”

“ _Oh_.”

Keith is ready to wake up and be embarrassed that he just let himself say that, but Shiro wraps him up and nuzzles his hair, and Keith just can’t bring himself to regret saying it if it makes Shiro react like that.

Krolia, of course, can’t resist teasing Keith when he gets home.

“You just looked so cozy, I couldn’t bear to take you away from Shiro.” He ignores her. “I would have felt just as bad for him, the way he was squeezing you like a teddy bear.”

Keith’s eyes blow wide, but he does his best not to give her any more material with which to tease him.

She is not deterred.

“Is this something you two do often? Sleep together?”

The phrasing makes Keith choke, and he can’t ignore her any longer. “MOM, we are not _sleeping together_ , oh my god.”

“Oh, _pfft_.” She waves him off. “Not like that. But you did look awfully sweet together.”

“I cannot believe we’re having this conversation,” he breathes in disbelief.

“Oh, relax. We’re not having this conversation. Just, you know, if you two ever did decide to get together, we’d all be very happy for you.”

It occurs to him then that Shiro’s parents are just as nosy as Krolia. “Mom, please tell me Shiro isn’t having this same conversation with his own parents.”

She shrugs, like the menace she is. “I couldn’t begin to guess what they’re talking about in the Shirogane household right now, Keith. I guess you’ll just have to ask him yourself.”

 _As. If_.

“You think you’re so clever,” he mumbles.

“I am,” she retorts. “By the way, Keith, I hope you don’t mind — and please, please tell me if you do, because you know you are my number one priority, always — but we were thinking of maybe having our own party for New Year’s Eve this year.”

Keith looks up at her. “Really? Just you guys?”

“Oh, no,” she scoffs. “With some people around town, some new neighbors and those old friends I told you about before.”

“Oh,” Keith says. He doesn’t mind at all, actually.

“Is that a problem? If it is, I promise we’ll have our normal families-only party at our house without a second thought. I just wanted to give you the chance to do something for yourself, if you want to.”

“Actually, there’s a party on campus that night that some of our friends really want us to go to.”

She looks at him like she can’t quite parse his response. “Is that something you want to do?”

He thinks about it for a brief moment. He _did_ promise Hunk he’d ask. “Yeah, I think it is. Shiro and I promised a friend we’d come if we were back on campus by then, so... Yeah, Mom, of course. Have fun. You deserve it.”

She smiles at him. Keith isn’t sure when it happened, but sometime since he’s been gone, his mom has regained some of her old spark. She seems better. A lot better.

And as much as it pains him to think that they’re both starting to move on without his dad, it’s bittersweet. They both deserve this.

The rest of the semester goes by in a blaze of final projects and exams. Everyone passes, of course, and then they’re all saying goodbye for three weeks until it’s time to meet up again for New Year’s.

Christmas is hard, probably even harder than Thanksgiving because of how much Keith’s dad always loved Christmas, but they get through it. He’s almost tempted to stay home instead of going back to school early, but his mom is having absolutely none of it, promising him that she’s okay and she’d tell him if she wasn’t. Keith confirms with her that she has plans and that she won’t be alone, and she just laughs and ruffles his hair and pushes him out the door.

“I promise,” she says with a smile. “I’ll tell you all about mine if you tell me all about yours.”

He goes back to school with that promise.

“Welcome back!” James greets when Shiro and Keith walk up to the frat house. “Glad you guys could make it!” He pulls Keith into a hug, then offers a hand for Shiro to shake, which Shiro takes with only barely-noticeable reluctance. Keith feels so proud.

“Okay, come on in,” James says, ushering them inside. “Hunk and Romelle are already here, Ryan’s helping bring in the kegs, Rolo and Nyma said they were gonna show up later, and everyone who’s not on keg duty is already pregaming.”

A chorus of greetings meets them as they step into the house, and then they’re surrounded by hugs and friends and the smell of cheap beer and champagne.

Any hesitation Keith still had about coming back vanishes. He’s happy to be here, with his friends and with Shiro.

Technically, the party doesn’t start until ten, but some of the brothers’ closer friends start showing up earlier. (Girls. They’ve invited so, so many girls.) It’s actually a lot more chill than Keith expects, even once it starts going. Everyone is happy and relaxed from three weeks of vacation and another week still ahead before classes start. The music is all covers of Christmas songs performed by popular ‘90s and 2000s bands, which is fun and has everyone singing and dancing.

It’s different from other parties they’ve been to. One major difference is that neither of them is embarrassingly shit-faced, and nobody is upset or desperately sucking face or hooking up in a random bedroom. Everyone is just having a great time, especially Shiro and Keith.

When the countdown starts (at 11:59, because a full minute of screaming is necessary), everyone begins to pair off. Hunk and Romelle are leaning against the wall, arms linked and cozy. James and Ryan are, of course, very drunk and lounging on the couch. James is sideways in Ryan’s lap, presumably for easy access to Ryan’s mouth and maximum bodily contact. One couple is already making out, not even bothering with the countdown. Rolo and Nyma aren’t counting but are watching the TV. They’ll probably leave at midnight and make their way back to Rolo and Keith’s dorm room, which means Keith is probably crashing with Shiro again. He makes a note to find out what Hunk and Romelle are doing after. Maybe they can all go out for midnight breakfast.

The volume rises the closer they get to zero.

“Ten!”

“Nine!”

“Eight!”

“Seven!”

“Six!”

Shiro turns to look at him. “Happy New Year, Keith,” he murmurs.

“Four!”

“Three!”

“Happy New Year, Shiro.”

“ONE!”

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

The place erupts in a frankly obnoxious amount of glitter and confetti. Clearly, the girls had a hand in setting up this party, because there’s no way a bunch of lazy frat boys would go to the trouble of filling balloons with glitter and rigging confetti to the ceiling.

Shiro’s hand comes up to tuck a thick strand of hair behind Keith’s ear. He’s so close, Keith can practically feel his breath.

“You look pretty with all this glitter in your hair,” Shiro says.

Keith can’t breathe. “That’s pretty gay of you to say,” he says, because he’s an idiot and he can’t fucking breathe and it’s cutting off the air to his brain.

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m pretty gay,” Shiro retorts. He steps closer so that they’re chest to chest.

The place should be noisy and rowdy and chaotic, but Keith can’t see or hear anything but Shiro, the colorful chunks of confetti floating around him, and the glitter glinting in his black hair when he moves, making him look like the angel he is.

“You look pretty all the time,” Keith whispers.

“I’d like to kiss you,” Shiro says. Keith must be dreaming. There’s no way this is happening. He’s dreamt of it too many times.

“Okay,” he says instead of any of that.

Shiro leans in and closes the distance between them. The last thing Keith sees before he closes his eyes is a piece of red glitter stuck in Shiro’s eyelashes.

Then the world stops spinning, and all Keith can feel is the push of Shiro’s lips slotted against his, Shiro’s fingers in his hair, his own eyelashes brushing Shiro’s cheek.

All Keith can hear is his own empty mind and loud breaths.

He’s vaguely aware of his hand smoothing over Shiro’s chest and shoulder, settling on the nape of his neck to hold him close. Shiro’s hand — the one not in his hair — settles at the small of Keith’s back and keeps them pressed together.

They stay like that for what seems like forever, lips parting and pressing together again until Keith feels dizzy, and when they part, it still feels like it’s over too soon.

“Wow,” someone breathes, and Keith is shocked to realize it’s Shiro who says it, not him.

Keith isn’t capable of speech, so he just nods and forces himself not to kiss Shiro again. He doesn’t know what this means. Was this just a New Year’s kiss? Caught up in the moment? An experiment? Shiro throwing him a bone?

Whatever it is, whether it happens again or not, it’s magical.

Something has changed, and yet, everything has stayed exactly the same.

Keith is forever, completely, hopelessly in love with Shiro. That’s never been a question. What’s changed is that after this, Keith will never be able to kiss another man. He’s Shiro’s. He’s always been Shiro’s, but this is it.

“Happy New Year,” Shiro whispers. Keith nods again.

The moment shatters when someone jostles them hard enough to break them apart, and suddenly everything comes back into focus. It feels a little like turning on the lights and uncapping a bottle full of noise.

Somehow, everything has become sticky. Upon further inspection, it looks like a couple of people shook up bottles of champagne and sprayed them everywhere. Keith actually feels really bad for James and the other brothers who are going to have the clean it all up. There’s not much he can make himself do besides look around and wait for his cloudy post-kiss mind to clear.

Now that the countdown has passed, people are starting to clear out. It’s actually a bit strange; most parties last into the wee hours of the morning, but there must be something about having an end goal that makes people feel like leaving once it’s over.

Eventually, Hunk wanders over to where Keith is standing and waves a hand in front of his face.

“You good, buddy? You seem super out of it.”

Keith shakes himself out of his stupor and finally forces himself to find words. “Good. Great, yeah. Yes.”

Hunk looks at him like he’s not all there, which, okay, that’s fair. “Yeah, you sound super good great yeah yes. Really good job expressing yourself, Keith. Anyway, I saw Rolo and Nyma sneak out of here. Should I assume you’re gonna be at our place tonight?”

“Um.” Keith chances a glance at Shiro. “I think so? If that’s okay?”

“Yeah, always,” Hunk says, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’m probably gonna stay at Romelle’s, though. No offense or anything, it’s just, you know, I like to give you guys your space.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Keith assures him. “We’re not, um, doing anything weird, or whatever.”

“No I know! Just don’t want to pressure you guys to go to sleep when I do. Or something.”

“Right,” Keith says. Nobody says anything for an awkward moment. “You guys wanna get breakfast?” Keith blurts.

Hunk blinks. “Like, tomorrow?”

“Ooh, breakfast,” Shiro says, coming up behind Keith from wherever he’s been the last few minutes. “I could definitely go for breakfast.”

“Did someone say breakfast?”

Ryan pops out from seemingly nowhere, drawn as he always is when someone starts talking about food. Ryan can put away a shocking amount of food, probably because of how much energy he spends keeping up his ridiculous body. James isn’t far behind, of course, but he is significantly more drunk.

“Pancaaaaaaakes.”

Ryan pulls him to his side to steady him. “Well said, babe.”

“So now, I guess,” Hunk amends, waving Romelle over. “Breakfast?”

“Heck yeah!” she says. “Let’s roll.”

Everyone piles into Romelle’s SUV because she, being the angel she is, graciously volunteered to be tonight’s designated driver, and in the blink of an eye they’re at the best 24-hour diner in town.

“Lucky they’re open,” Shiro comments as he absentmindedly brushes his thumb across the back of Keith’s hand. They’re wedged together in the backseat with Ryan and James. It’s a tight fit— they’re stuffed in there tightly enough that no one else would be able to see them holding hands, hidden in the nonexistent space where their thighs touch, even if they were sober enough to check.

Every brush of Shiro’s thumb makes his heart skip a beat. He hums an acknowledgement but can’t do much more.

Romelle pulls the SUV into a parking spot near the back of the parking lot, and everyone piles out, a mess of limbs and glitter tumbling out onto the asphalt. Shiro gives his hand a firm squeeze before he lets go.

“I’m gonna eat so many fuckin’ waffles,” Keith hears Ryan say. Everyone is chattering excitedly about the food, the party, the new year, their hopes for what’s to come.

Keith is just trying to keep it together. This has been, by far, the best night of his life, and he wants it to last forever. Because after this, who knows what’s going to happen?

They’re sat pretty quickly, and they don’t have to wait long before a server comes to take their orders. Keith has been staring at the menu since they sat down, but all he can focus on is Shiro’s arm across the back of the booth, Shiro’s fingers grazing his shoulder.

“You’re up,” Shiro tells him with a nudge when it comes his turn to order.

He glances at Shiro and then back at the menu. “I, uh…”

Shiro just chuckles and takes the menu from his hands. To the server, he says, “He’ll have the triple meat omelette, and can you add tomato and extra cheese, please? Hash browns on the side with jalapeños, onions, and cheese mixed in.”

For the first time in what feels like hours, Keith takes a breath. Everything hasn’t changed, not really. Shiro is still his best friend in the world. Shiro still knows him like the back of his own hand, can still read everything about him, still loves and cares about him just as much as he ever has.

“You good?” James asks, not really looking at Keith but somewhere up at the ceiling. He’s trying to drink from his chocolate milk, but his mouth can’t find the straw. He looks so dumb, Keith can’t stifle his laugh.

“Yeah,” he says.

Shiro nudges him again to get his attention. He raises an eyebrow at Keith, checking in without words to make sure he really is good. Keith melts into a smile and nods once. Everything is so, _so_ good.

Regrettably, Shiro has to reclaim his arm when the food comes so that he can eat, but that hardly matters when they’re crammed into a tiny little booth and Keith can feel him against his entire side. It hardly matters, because when Shiro moans around a bite of peanut butter and banana pancakes and catches Keith eyeing his plate, he forks up a huge bite with all of the good stuff and feeds it to Keith without a second thought.

“Oh, those are really good,” Keith says around his mouthful.

“Mhm. How’s yours?”

“ _So_ good,” he moans. “Exactly what I wanted.”

Shiro grins. “I know what you like.”

There’s not much conversation while everyone attacks their food. Ryan, true to his word, ends up eating four waffles before James physically restrains him from ordering anything else. Hunk and Romelle each get the Deluxe Breakfast Special because neither of them can ever decide if they want sweet or savory food, so why not both? By the time everyone is finished, they’re all stuffed and ready to fall asleep in the booth.

The server comes back to get their checks situated. It’s not new for Keith and Shiro to pay for each other’s meals, but the way Shiro tells the server, “We’re together,” fuels something possessive and _owned_ inside him. He wants that. He wants them to be _together_ together. And although hope is terrifying, he fully believes that Shiro won’t do anything to hurt him on purpose. Whatever is happening, he’ll follow Shiro’s lead.

Romelle drops them off at Shiro’s dorm when the night is over. They don’t need to discuss what will happen next; they change into pajamas and crawl into bed together, cuddled close and pressed together. There’s no goodnight kiss, no confession, nothing to further explain what’s going on between them. And that’s okay.

In the morning, the jarring sound of Keith’s phone wakes them both. Keith does his damned best to ignore it, stuffing his face into Shiro’s chest and yanking the blanket over his head.

“Keith,” Shiro grunts. “Phone.”

“No.”

Shiro shifts, presumably to reach for the phone, and Keith protests by wrapping himself around Shiro like an octopus.

“Stay,” he demands.

Shiro huffs a gruff, drowsy laugh. “It’s your mom. Gotta get it.” He manages to reach all the way over Keith to the nightstand and snags the phone. It’s still ringing when Keith hears him answer it himself with a cheerful, “Happy New Year!”

“Oh, Shiro!” he hears his mom say. “Happy New Year. Where’s my son?”

“‘m here,” he groans. “Hi, Mom.”

“Show yourself,” she says. “We’re on video chat.”

Keith’s eyes pop open. He braces himself for what’s to come as he wiggles up and out of the blanket. In the corner of the voice chat, his camera shows an absolute mess of black hair and — is that _more_ glitter on his cheek?

Krolia lifts an eyebrow at him. “Happy New Year, kid.”

“Yeah,” he grunts. “You too.”

“I take it you two had a good time last night?”

Keith refuses to look at Shiro, because if he does, his mom will read something into it, and it will most likely not be the truth.

“Yeah. The party was pretty fun.” He sits up farther and stretches his arms high above his head. When he’s finished, he takes the phone from Shiro so that Shiro can take his turn to stretch and wake himself up.

“Just the party?” she asks with a smirk.

Keith rolls his eyes. He’s going to really get it later when Shiro isn’t around.

“We went to breakfast after,” he says pointedly. “And then we crashed at Shiro’s because my room was occupied with post-party activities.” He glares at her, daring her to say something else about it.

“I see,” she says. It’s obvious she’s not buying it for a second, even though it’s the truth. “Well, I’m glad you had fun. We had a good time, too.”

“You were at my parents’ house, right?” Shiro asks, scooting in closer so he can see and be seen. “Was it just the three of you?”

“Oh, no. It was a whole big thing. A lot of people came. I got to meet your aunt and uncle. They came into town for the party. I also got to see an old friend of mine from many, many years ago. In fact, Keith, I don’t believe you’ve ever met him. We were friends before I met your dad, but he moved away before you were born and we fell out of touch. He moved back to town recently and looked me up, and Shiro’s parents were kind enough to invite him to the party.”

She’s smiling softly. Deep in Keith’s gut, he knows there’s more to this than she’s letting on. It twists and stings and tugs at his heartstrings, but he wants her to be happy.

“What’s his name?” he asks. “Maybe I’ve heard of him.”

“Kolivan. I’m not sure if I ever mentioned him before, but we were in the Peace Corps together for several years. That was how I met your dad, too, and many of our friends, but Kolivan got a job he couldn’t turn down pretty soon after your dad and I got together, so they never had a chance to get to know each other.”

“Huh. Well, it’s nice that you have another friend in town. You’ll have to introduce me next time I’m home.”

“Absolutely.” She nods happily. “Your parents throw one hell of a party, Shiro.”

Shiro barks out a laugh. “Oh really? I don’t think we’ve ever had a party in that house as long as I’ve lived.

Krolia waves him off. “Oh, sure they have. You remember when my husband would work twelve-hour shifts and get home in the morning and sleep all day, and then you two would stay up all night with him even though I told him to get you to bed at a reasonable hour?”

Keith gapes, and he can see Shiro doing the same beside him.

“You made Dad _babysit_ us while you were out partying?”

She rolls her eyes. “I wasn’t _out partying_. I was at Shiro’s house having a drink with my friends.”

“Without Dad.”

“Your dad loved having you boys all to himself for the night. He let you do all kinds of things I never would have let you do if I had been there. It gave him an excuse to build blanket forts and fall asleep on the floor surrounded by snacks. And every single morning, without fail, his back would be killing him and he’d be exhausted from a terrible night’s sleep, and it was the happiest I ever saw him because he got to spend the whole night hanging out with his two favorite guys.”

Keith doesn’t speak, unable to get the words around the emotion clogging his throat. He watches his mom on the screen. She seems to be spacing out a little, lost in thought with a little smile on her face, and it aches _so much_ , but it eases the tightness Keith feels at the idea of her finding someone else.

Shiro snakes and arm around his waist and pulls him close while she’s distracted, dropping a kiss on the side of his head that makes him feel comforted and loved and confused, because this isn’t something that’s normal for them, but it’s something he’d sorely love to become the new normal.

“We always had fun with him,” Shiro says in the quiet that’s fallen upon them. “Those are some of my favorite memories from when we were kids. Sometimes he’d take us night fishing, and he’d let us order pizza or take us to the grocery store to pick out whatever frozen foods we wanted to eat.”

His fingers are fiddling with the hem of Keith’s shirt. Shiro probably doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, which somehow makes it so much more intimate. Keith wishes he’d pull the trigger and slide his hand beneath his shirt so he could feel the skin-on-skin contact that he craves so much. He wishes he wasn’t on video chat with his mom so that she couldn’t see the way he’s affected by such a small touch, even if the touch is out of the frame. He wants to tell Shiro how much he loves him, how much he adores hearing Shiro talk about his dad like this, how much it fills his heart that Shiro can just casually answer his mom’s phone calls like he’s already part of the family.

Keith loves him. He loves him _so much_ ; he’s been in love with him since he was old enough to know what love is, and no matter how many other men get in the way, he will never, _ever_ stop loving Shiro, because Shiro is the best person on the planet, and he has always loved Keith more than Keith ever felt he deserved. Maybe it’s selfish to keep hoping for more, since Shiro’s friendship has been the light in his life for so long; and it’s true that he’d be happy if that’s all they ever were, but right here, right now, Keith longs to make Shiro a part of his family, officially and forever.

Krolia shakes herself out of her reverie and pulls her attention back to the boys. “Well,” she sighs, “I think I’ve taken up enough of your morning. I love you both. Be good, and happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year,” they chorus together, and Shiro clicks out of the call.

“So, what’s the plan for the new year?”

____________________

The plan for the new year is to be grateful for everything Keith has. He’s been down on himself for too long. He still misses his dad, still wishes he could see his mom more often, still wants Shiro with everything he is, but he’s also immensely grateful that he’s grown up with such a loving family and now has a group of fun and supportive friends.

The plan is to make sure that his loved ones know how much they are loved. The plan is to support them and uplift them and leave them out of his drama, because he’s tired of being an anchor for the people around him. His feelings are not their burden — they are his own — and his life will be better and more fulfilling if he’s able to manage those feelings in a healthier way.

The plan is to make this year the best year possible and to learn from his losses and mistakes and become a better man.

Keith’s resolve is tested too quickly.

Midway through February, Keith gets the scare of his life, and as soon as the thought crosses his mind, he thinks how selfish he is that _he_ is so scared when Shiro is the one who needs help and someone to quell his fear.

It’s unseasonably warm for February, so they’re walking back to the dorms one afternoon after a study break at their favorite frozen yogurt place. The dorms are in view, and Shiro is in the middle of telling Keith about a story one of his professors told in class earlier in the day when he lets out a little “ah” and a hiss of pain.

“You okay?” Keith asks, but Shiro just shrugs it off and presses on.

“So she’s telling us about her divorce — and by the way, her ex-husband is actually a professor here in another department — and it _must_ have something to do with thermodynamics, because we’re literally in the middle of the lecture, and — oh, _ow_ , ow, fuck—”

His cup falls out of his hands as he grips his spasming forearm.

“Shiro?!”

Keith drops his own yogurt and rushes to Shiro, only to realize he has no idea how to help and ends up hovering with his arms out as Shiro seems to attempt to physically squeeze the pain out of his arm.

“Shiro, what is it? It is a spasm? Has this happened before? What can I do?”

He knows he’s rambling, but his heart is trying to beat its way out of his chest while he watches his best friend squirm and pale with the pain.

Shiro forces the words out through panting breaths and clenched teeth. “Once,” he wheezes. “When I had — my accident.”

“Oh, fuck, okay,” Keith says, going into problem solving mode. He whirls around in search of a bench or somewhere to sit Shiro down and finds the edge of a large planter. “Okay, come here.” He pulls Shiro toward the planter and pushes him to sit on the ledge. “Wait here, okay? Don’t move. I’m going to get your keys from your room.”

He can’t access Shiro’s dorm without his student ID, so he forces his hand into Shiro’s pocket. Shiro allows him to manhandle him while he breathes through the pain. His right hand is twisted into a painful-looking claw, and Shiro doesn’t appear to be able to straighten his fingers. Keith fumbles with shaking hands through Shiro’s wallet until he finds his student ID and stuffs the wallet back into Shiro’s pocket.

“I’ll be right back, Shiro, okay? Just breathe. Don’t move. I’ll be right back. You’re going to be okay, just hang on!” He shouts the last reassurance behind him, already sprinting to the dorm.

He smacks the ID against the card reader and feels intense relief when the door clicks open and nobody tries to stop him from getting in. He’s panicking about halfway up the stairs (the elevator is too slow) when he realizes he forgot to take Shiro’s room key, but there’s a good chance Hunk is in the room, so he keeps going. He basically beats the door down when he gets there, barely taking note of the startled “Hey what the—” he hears before the door swings open.

Keith doesn’t spare extra breath to explain to Hunk what’s going on. He just barges into the room like a hurricane, overturning the things on Shiro’s desk and rifling through his backpack until he finds what he’s looking for.

“Keith? What the hell—”

“I’ll explain later,” Keith shouts, already flying out the door and back down the stairs. He considers going back for Shiro, but he doesn’t think he can make Shiro walk all the way to the student parking lot where his car is parked if he’s still in as much pain as he was when Keith left, so he sprints directly for the car.

It feels too far. The student parking lots are all decently far walks, but it feels infinitely farther as he huffs and puffs up the steep hill leading up to it, as he thinks of Shiro sitting alone in the dark on campus in an amount of pain Keith has never seen on his face. When he reaches the car, he has to force himself not to peel out of the spot and burn rubber down the hill and onto the main campus. His lungs hurt, his heart is definitely beating too fast to be healthy, and he’s _terrified_ for his friend. Still, he forces himself to drive responsibly and breathe.

He pulls up to the curb beside Shiro, grateful that the dorms were built on an enclosed loop so that Shiro doesn’t have to move too much. He throws the car in park and leaps out of the car. Shiro’s breathing seems to be under control now, but his hand is still cramped up, and his brow is still drawn like he’s concentrating hard.

“I brought your car,” Keith says as he approaches. “Come on. We’re going to the hospital.”

The mention of the hospital has Shiro’s eyes flying open. There’s a wild look there that Keith has never seen before; he looks haunted and pained and above all, so scared. It breaks Keith’s heart before Shiro even has a chance to protest.

“No, not the hospital, please—”

“ _You have to,_ ” Keith insists. “I’m not taking no for an answer. Get in the car.”

Shiro lets him pull him up and stuff him into the front seat. He’s not releasing the grip on his arm, so Keith has to buckle his seatbelt for him, too, before he can close the door and sprint back to the driver’s side.

Neither of them speak on the way to the hospital. Keith doesn’t know what to say except to repeat “It’s okay” and “Hang on” over and over again, so he doesn’t say anything at all. Shiro’s breathing is measured: in for four seconds, rest for seven, out for eight, repeat. It’s meant to relax Shiro, but Keith finds that listening to Shiro breathe helps to relax him, too.

By the time they reach the hospital, Shiro has managed to flex his fingers slightly. It’s obvious that he’s still in pain, and there’s not much else he can do, but his face looks less pinched. He’s so pale, though, and Keith’s heart aches and aches and aches with worry for what they’re going to hear.

They go in through the emergency room entrance, and Shiro is seen quickly. Keith is ready to stay in the waiting room and chew his fingernails down until they bleed, but Shiro releases his grip on his forearm and touches Keith’s hand to get his attention. “Please,” he whispers, and Keith will do anything Shiro asks.

Shiro undergoes a series of tests when the doctor arrives. They were able to pull up his medical history and were already familiar with his condition. The problem is that Shiro’s disease hasn’t manifested in years, and that was only once. Before that, his only true experience with it was from when he was diagnosed a child, when he had to take medical leave from school and ended up being in Keith’s class the following year. So in a way, this is very new to him.

Most of the testing is done immediately — finger pricks, x-rays, stretches, blood draws, muscle shocks, blood pressure, and countless other scans and pokes and prods that Shiro has to go through before they can tell him anything — but the results of the big test, the one that will tell them whether or not Shiro’s disease has started to progress, won’t come back for another twenty-four hours.

The drive home is quiet again. The doctor had administered a muscle relaxer for Shiro’s arm, so he’s feeling better but exhausted and, though he won’t admit it yet, scared. Keith doesn’t try to get him to speak until they’re pulling up to campus.

“If you want, I can drop you at your dorm and go park the car.”

Shiro shrugs. “I don’t mind walking.”

“Are you sure?”

He inhales long and strong, then releases all of it in a loud puff. “I could really use the fresh air,” he says.

Keith nods and takes them both back to the parking lot.

If the distance had seemed unbearably long before, it seems suffocatingly short now, even though they’re walking with no hurry in their steps.

Keith isn’t sure if he should ask, or what he should do, but he can’t stand the idea of being away from Shiro now if he doesn’t have to, so he gathers his courage and asks, “Do you want me to stay?”

Shiro doesn’t say anything for a minute, and Keith isn’t sure if he’s heard the question. He’s about to call out to him, but Shiro shakes his head, and Keith’s heart sinks.

“I don’t think I want to go back to my dorm tonight,” he says in lieu of whatever rejection Keith had been waiting for. “I love Hunk, but he’s going to ask so many questions, and I just...”

“I get it,” Keith says, and he does. He’ll have to call Hunk when he gets back to his own dorm, since he’d promised him an explanation, but the idea of making Shiro rehash the whole evening is painful even to him. “You can come back with me to mine, if you want,” he offers.

Shiro looks up at him like he’s unsure, like he should have any reason to be self-conscious or worried about putting Keith out. “Are you sure?”

“Of course.” Keith steps forward into Shiro’s space. “You can stay with me any time you want. You never have to ask.”

Shiro attempts a smile. It’s tentative and fragile, but genuine, so Keith smiles back. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s head upstairs. I’ll kick Rolo out if he’s being weird.” Shiro nods and falls into step beside him again.

Keith’s room is miraculously empty when they return. It’s not until Keith catches sight of an empty gift bag on Rolo’s desk that he realizes it’s Valentine’s Day, and Rolo is probably out for the night. Just to be sure, Keith shoots him a text and lets him know that Shiro is staying over, so if he comes back to please be quiet. Rolo just sends back a winking face. He doesn’t even know what to make of that.

Shiro heads straight to the shower, claiming he needs to think and wash the hospital stink off of himself, so Keith takes that time to call Hunk. He relays the important details and answers the easy questions, but the rest isn’t something he’s capable of thinking about or dealing with yet.

“Just go easy on him tomorrow, okay? He’s not getting his test results back until tomorrow night at the earliest.”

“Totally get it,” Hunk says. “Man. This is like, really heavy stuff, huh?”

Keith nods before he remembers that Hunk can’t see him. “Yeah.”

“And he’s had this, uh, condition, for a while?”

“Since he was a kid,” Keith explains. “But it’s been dormant for a long time, so it hasn’t really come up. He had a flare-up in high school, but after a few months without another incident, the doctors said he was okay to go back to normal.”

“What happened then?”

It’s an awful memory that Keith hates having to revisit, but he explains the accident and the precautions Shiro had to take afterward.

“Well, maybe this time is like that time.”

Keith shakes his head. “Shiro wasn’t like this last time. I— I wasn’t there, when he had his spasm in the car, but I saw him in the hospital after, and he wasn’t like this. He seems really scared, Hunk. I... I don’t know what to do.”

There’s a puff of air that makes the line go staticky for a brief moment before Hunk speaks again. “I know this is hard. For both of you. You just gotta be there for him.”

“I am.”

“I know. You’re an amazing friend, Keith. Just make sure he knows he has you.”

He will. He will do anything it takes to make Shiro feel safe and cared for. “Okay,” he tells Hunk. “Thanks. Sorry for freaking you out.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Hunk says. “Just let me know if there’s anything you or Shiro need from me.”

“Thanks.”

He hangs up the phone and waits for Shiro to come back. It’s only a couple of minutes, but it feels like forever. He doesn’t know what to expect if the results come back positive. He doesn’t know what Shiro is feeling, doesn’t know what progression of the disease might mean for him, doesn’t know what he can possibly do to help. He knows he needs to call Shiro’s parents, but he feels a little too raw to break the news to them now, and he doubts Shiro will want to go through that now, either.

Shiro must be thinking something similar because he comes back looking pale and stressed despite the walk home and his long shower.

“We’ll call tomorrow,” Keith says before Shiro can say anything, and instantly Shiro’s posture relaxes noticeably.

Keith doesn’t have any pajamas that will fit Shiro, so he lends him a pair of gym shorts and a stretchy tank top that make Keith curse his completely inappropriate thoughts.

It’s late now, after hours at the hospital, so they crawl into Keith’s bed. Shiro scoots lower and rests his head on Keith’s chest, and Keith holds him the way he’s grown used to Shiro doing for him. They lie in silence for a while, just breathing, and Keith has almost drifted off when he feels Shiro shaking.

He squeezes him around the shoulders and runs a hand through his damp bangs.

“Shiro?”

He waits. If Shiro wants to talk about it, he will, but Keith won’t push him.

It takes a long time for Shiro to speak, so Keith tries to impart as much physical comfort as possible, tries to soothe his shaking and be the support Shiro needs.

“I’m scared,” Shiro whispers. Keith feels the corners of his eyes prickle.

“I know.”

“What if...” Shiro sniffs, and Keith realizes it’s more than just Shiro’s bangs leaving wet spots on his shirt. “What if it’s for real this time? I’m twenty-one. I’m the right age for the symptoms to start showing.”

Keith takes a deep breath and continues to rub Shiro’s back and pet through his hair. “We won’t know until the test comes back.”

“Yeah.” There’s a heavy silence. “What if they tell me... Keith, what if... What if I’m dying?”

Keith can’t stop the sharp inhale that pierces his lungs. It’s too much, too agonizing to even consider, so Keith refuses to entertain the idea.

“No. You can’t think like that. You’re not dying, Shiro. I won’t let you.”

Shiro laughs wetly and tilts his head up to look at Keith with big, damp eyes. “Why do I feel like you actually mean that?”

“Because I do,” Keith says with all of the conviction he can muster. “I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

“You can’t stop biology, Keith,” Shiro sighs. His expression is fond but resigned.

Keith frowns. “Watch me.”

They drift off a little while later. Neither of them have set their alarms, and they both end up sleeping through their morning classes. Missing a lecture won’t kill them, and neither of them have anything horribly pressing in their other classes, so by mutual agreement, they decide to skip those, too.

The conversation with Shiro’s parents is awful. They’re both clearly distressed and scared, as much as they try to hide it. They offer to come up and stay in a hotel so that they can be close, but Shiro assures them that it’s not necessary. He promises to call them as soon as he hears anything. Shiro’s mom insists that she hear it from the doctor himself, so Keith says he’ll call and put her on speaker phone when the doctor calls so that they can all hear the news together.

It’s the longest day any of them have had in a long, long time. Keith can’t bear to talk to his mom about it yet, so he sends her a text to let her know in case there’s anything she can do for the Shiroganes in the meantime.

The doctor calls around nine P.M. Shiro is the one who answers the phone, and when the doctor identifies himself, he puts it on speaker and asks for him to wait while he gets his parents on the line. Keith uses his own phone to call Shiro’s mother, who answers immediately, and tells her that the doctor is on speaker phone.

Shiro gives the doctor the go-ahead.

“Mr. Shirogane,” he begins. “I have the results of your test, and I’d like for you to hear me through to the end. Alright?”

“Okay.”

“Alright. Well, unfortunately it seems the disease has begun to progress. The spasm you had yesterday is an indicator of what’s to come if it continues to progress. It’s attacking your muscle fibers, causing them to seize intermittently for now, but eventually, as it continues to worsen, you will lose function.”

On Keith’s phone, Shiro’s mother says, “Oh my god,” and his father curses. Keith moves closer to Shiro and reaches out for him, and Shiro immediately takes his hand. His grip verges on painful, but Keith doesn’t care; Shiro’s eyes are close to spilling over, and his shoulders are shaking, but he manages to say, “Okay. So what does that mean?”

“Well,” the doctor begins again. “I think we could have some good news for you, but I’d like for you to come in so we can discuss your options in person. This isn’t a conversation I think we should have over the phone.”

Shiro sucks in a breath. “I have options?” His voice is shaking and his grip is numbing Keith’s hand.

“You do. How soon can you come in?”

“Um.” Shiro stops and closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath, and then another. “I’m a student. When would I need to come in?”

“That’s alright,” the doctor says. “I usually work nights. Can you come in Monday at six P.M.?”

“Yes,” Shiro breathes. “Yeah, definitely. Thank you.”

“Alright, I’ll see you then. And Mr. Shirogane, breathe. We’ll discuss your options then. For now, try to get some rest, wear your bracelet, and take those pills as a precaution.”

Shiro nods vigorously but doesn’t seem able to speak anymore, so Keith takes the phone.

“Thanks, Doc,” he says.

“Have a good night,” the doctor says, and then hangs up the phone.

Shiro’s parents are still on the line. Keith can hear sniffling and the murmur of Mr. Shirogane trying to comfort his wife. Keith makes sure that they heard everything the doctor said about Shiro’s options and his next appointment, and then they hang up with the promise that they’ll be there as soon as tomorrow afternoon.

Shiro still hasn’t spoken. His lip trembles and his eyes are shut tight. There’s wetness at the edges where Shiro hasn’t allowed the tears to fall. But there’s no one around but Keith, no reason that Shiro should need to hold himself together, so Keith pulls him down onto the bed and holds him close, and Shiro sobs.

“It’s going to be okay,” Keith vows, whispering words of comfort into Shiro’s hair. “You’ll be okay. No matter what, you’ll get through it. We’ll get through it.”

Shiro eventually cries himself into an exhausted sleep. Keith’s mind is buzzing too much for him to do the same. He doesn’t want to wake Shiro, but he’s desperate to talk to his mom. He gives Shiro a little shake, and Shiro doesn’t budge. He whispers his name, quietly at first, and then a little louder, and when Shiro still doesn’t stir, he decides to call his mom anyway.

She answers on the second ring, and Keith explains in hushed tones everything the doctor said. He occasionally pauses when Shiro moves or makes a sound to see that he hasn’t woken Shiro up, but otherwise he’s able to carry on the conversation normally.

“Is Shiro asleep?” Krolia asks after the third or fourth time Keith has to stop what he’s saying.

“Yeah, sorry. Trying not to wake him up. He took it pretty hard.”

“Is there somewhere you can go? I know those rooms aren’t very big, but there must be a common area or an empty hall or something.”

“Oh, um, I can’t really move at the moment.”

There’s a pause, and then Krolia asks, “Why not? Is something wrong?”

Keith smoothes a hand down his face. He really doesn’t want to have this conversation while Shiro is literally on top of him, but, well...

“He’s, uh, asleep on me,” he says. “I can’t move without waking him up.”

“Keith,” Krolia says, and then nothing else.

Keith grunts.

“Tell me the truth. Are you two together?”

Keith sighs. It ruffles Shiro’s hair, and Shiro scrunches up his nose in his sleep where it tickles him. It’s extremely cute, but Keith relieves him by brushing his bangs away.

“No, mom,” Keith says. “You know it isn’t like that between us.” He thinks back to their kiss on New Year’s Eve and wonders if he’s lying, even though it’s been almost two months and they haven’t talked about it again.

“It’s just that I caught you two in bed together last month, and the way you two look at each other, and now you’re sleeping together again—”

“We are not _sleeping together_ and you did not _catch us in bed together_ ,” Keith hisses. “When you say it like that, of course it sounds like something’s going on, but it’s not.”

Another pause.

“You know you can tell me though, right?” She says. “I know I’m not Dad, but I want you to know you can always talk to me. I love you so much, Keith, and I love Shiro, too. I hope you know that. It would make me so happy to see you two together.”

He closes his eyes against the emotions that threaten to surface. “Me too,” he whispers. “And I know. If anything ever happens, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Alright.”

Keith breathes in the empty space. He’s not ready to hang up yet, but he has nothing else to say, so he waits.

“Keith?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want me to come up this weekend?”

He opens his eyes again and stares up at the ceiling, looking for shapes in the ugly popcorn finish.

“Why?”

“To keep you company,” she says. “I know you said Shiro’s parents will be there. I thought maybe you’d like some company, too.”

The idea of having his mom around makes his heart clench. It’s only been two months since he saw her, but he feels emotionally raw, and selfishly, he knows he won’t be able to spend every waking moment with Shiro while his parents are in town. He’s not even sure he’ll be able to go to the appointment with him.

“If you want to,” he hedges. “That would be okay.”

“Alright,” she says, and he can hear the smile in her voice. “I have to work tomorrow, but I’ll come up first thing Saturday morning.”

Keith feels himself breathe a sigh of relief. “Sounds good.”

They hang up, and Keith eventually drifts off to sleep with his fingers curled in Shiro’s hair.

It turns out to be a good idea for Keith’s mother to come. Keith and Shiro both go to their Friday classes, and Shiro’s parents are happy to take Keith out for dinner with them Friday night, but by Saturday, Keith gets the impression that they’d like some time alone with their son. He doesn’t blame them, but he’s anxious being away from Shiro, and having his mom there helps a lot.

He takes her to his favorite places to eat, shows her the intramural fields, the library, the campus gym, the best off-campus coffee shop within walking distance, anything he can think of to keep himself occupied. He shows her his dorm, where they walk in on Rolo and Nyma in the middle of a makeout session that’s _clearly_ leading somewhere, and then turns around and immediately steers her literally anywhere else.

“Do they do that a lot?” she asks, laughing, on their way back out of the building.

“Usually at her place,” he mutters. His ears feel warm. “Or at least, he usually tells me when he needs the room.”

Krolia laughs at that. “I don’t miss college roommates.”

Keith shrugs. “He’s cool. We have a system.”

“A system?” Krolia raises a knowing eyebrow at him. Now it’s more than just his ears that are burning.

“Not like—! I mean, I don’t really bring people over! Um.” He _has_ brought people over, but not since he and James broke things off. Now it’s just Shiro, but they don’t need a system for that, since he and Shiro aren’t doing... _that_.

“Well, good that you have one anyway. You know, just in case.” She’s looking straight ahead, feigning nonchalance, but Keith can see her trying to hold back her smirk and knows this is her brand of teasing.

“You’re the worst,” he tells her.

She grins. “I’m the best, and you know it.”

He smiles back. “Yeah, yeah.” Walking around with his mom is the most relaxed he’s felt since Shiro had his attack, and though he’s still tense with anticipation, it’s nice to have at least a little bit of relief.

Monday comes too quickly. Keith goes to his classes, but he’s hardly able to concentrate on the material, so he absent-mindedly writes down notes from the board and hopes he’ll be able to parse through it later. He’s been texting Shiro throughout the day, but Shiro is only able to answer every so often, when his parents aren’t fretting over him. Keith knows it’s a hard day for everyone, especially Shiro and his parents, but it’s hard for Keith, too, and he wishes he could be there with Shiro.

He hasn’t been asked to attend the appointment. He’s not surprised, because as much as he loves Shiro, they aren’t actually family, but it still stings a little. Krolia tries to keep him distracted with dinner at exactly six o’clock, but after about fifteen minutes of watching him push his food around on his plate, she gives up and asks the waiter to box it up so they can take it home. She brings him back to her hotel room so they can lounge on big beds and pretend to watch cable TV until Keith’s phone rings almost two hours later.

He scrambles to answer it, breathless and nervous when he says, “Shiro?”

“H-hey.” Shiro’s voice wavers uncharacteristically. “Um. Where are you?”

“My mom’s hotel,” he says. His hands are shaking. “Why?”

“I really need to talk to you,” he says, voice tapering off at the end like he’s struggling to speak. “Do you think— is it asking too much for you to come over?”

“Of course not,” Keith answers with feeling. “I’ll get my mom to bring me back to your dorm.”

Before he can say anything else, Krolia offers, “If you want, I can get another room. If you’d be more comfortable here, without roommates.”

He relays the offer to Shiro. Shiro takes a minute to think about it and then agrees. “Yeah, okay. Yeah. That would be nice. Thanks.”

Shiro’s parents are staying in the same hotel, so they just bring him back with them to their room. Krolia is able to to secure Keith and Shiro their own room after talking it over with Mr. and Mrs. Shirogane. She had offered to host them in her room, which has two beds, while Shiro and Keith took over theirs, but they cited the need for a little bit of space and offered to pay for the third room instead. Krolia, of course, turned down the offer, and that was that. It doesn’t take long to get their room, and a little while later they’re alone again with a promise to come knocking if they need anything, anything at all.

Shiro sits on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. Stress is written in every line of his body, and it puts Keith on edge.

“You wanted to talk?” Keith asks, sitting gingerly beside Shiro.

Shiro lets out a long, heavy breath. He lifts his head from his hands, and he looks so tired. Keith can’t even imagine what he’s going to say.

“Keith,” he starts. “You... you love me, right?”

Keith doesn’t know where this is going, but the answer comes easily. “Of course I do.”

“Would you still love me if I were... different?”

“You’re everything to me,” Keith says. It’s probably too honest, but raw honesty is all he has left. “I’ll always love you, no matter what.”

There’s something in Shiro’s eyes, something like awe hiding behind all of the worry and fear, but Keith doesn’t think it’s a bad thing.

“Keith...”

“Always, Shiro. You’re my best friend. You’re the best person I’ve ever known. Nothing is going to change that.”

Shiro takes a deep breath. A tear drips out of the corner of one eye, and Keith braces himself.

“They want to amputate my arm.”

Keith feels it like a punch to the gut. He knows how much Shiro must be suffering with this decision. Losing an arm will change... everything. There are certain careers he won’t be able to pursue anymore, certain basic things he’ll need to relearn, months of physical therapy probably, or maybe that’s only if he’s able to be fitted for a prosthetic, and _that’s_ only if Shiro even _wants_ a prosthetic, and— Keith’s face must be doing something, because Shiro is looking at him with concern plain on his face.

“What do you think?” Keith asks instead of voicing any of that.

“I think... I think it’s my only option. Apparently the disease has only manifested in my arm so far. There don’t seem to be any affected cells anywhere else yet, but it’s going to spread quickly. The doctor said that removing the arm is the only way to stop the progression, but he wants to do it as soon as possible, if that’s what I decide.”

“And if you don’t?”

Shiro shrugs, eyes downcast. “If I don’t, I probably have a few good years left, but I might not make it to thirty.”

“ _Shiro_.” Keith knows his voice comes out choked. He can’t breathe. He can’t even _fathom_ the thought of losing Shiro so young. He can barely stomach the idea of losing Shiro at all. He forces himself to calm down. At some point between when they sat down and now, their hands have found each other. He’s holding Shiro’s right hand, and it hits him that this may be the last time he’ll ever get to do that. The thought makes his jaw clench and wobble, and he has to calm himself all over again. Finally, he asks, “What do your parents think?”

“They want me to do it,” he says. “And I get why they do. But they’re leaving the decision up to me.”

All at once, Keith is terrified. He’s terrified that Shiro is going to accept an early death in exchange for keeping his arm. He’s terrified that he’s going to lose another member of his family, and he’s not sure if he’ll be able to recover from it. He feels gutted and exposed, and the only thing he can think to do is hide himself, so he buries his face in Shiro’s neck and tries to take comfort in his familiar scent.

“Keith,” Shiro murmurs. “It’s okay.” Keith shakes his head. “Keith, please. Look at me?”

He forces himself to pull away from his hiding place and meet Shiro’s eyes. He feels tortured. He doesn’t want to influence Shiro’s decision based on his own selfish needs. It’s Shiro’s life, and he has the right to choose what he does with it.

“Hey,” Shiro says. “It’s okay.”

It’s not okay, really. They both know it’s not okay. But it has to be, because this is the hand that life has dealt.

“What are you gonna do?” Keith asks, voice barely a whisper.

“Can I sleep on it?” Shiro asks. Keith nods. “Okay. Then let’s watch some TV.”

Shiro flips through the channels and mercifully pretends not to notice as Keith pulls himself together. Shiro needs normalcy tonight. Keith can at least do that much.

He shakes himself and gets up to change into his pajamas until he realizes he hasn’t brought any clothes. Shiro notices his expression and raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t have pajamas,” he says dumbly. Shiro’s face blanks.

“Oh. Me neither.”

They could go back to one of their rooms after all. Or they could ask for a ride back to grab some clothes and come back. They could probably get Hunk to bring them some stuff from Shiro’s room, even. Worst case, they could just sleep in their clothes.

But Shiro just stands and unbuckles his jeans, letting them drop to the floor. His shirt stays on for now, but Keith knows that he won’t be comfortable sleeping in a button-up, which means Shiro will be sleeping in their shared bed in nothing but his boxers.

Keith follows suit and tries not to let his nerves show. He shimmies out of his skinny jeans and leaves his own shirt on. It’s just a t-shirt, so he can sleep in it if he wants to, and for now the extra clothing feels a little safer.

They settle back against the headboard and try to force themselves to relax to the sounds of sitcom laugh tracks. One channel is running a rerun marathon of one of their favorite shows, which helps. They’ve seen it so many times that they can both recite some of the lines now. The longer they watch, the more they let themselves breathe, until they’re leaning against each other and reciting their favorite jokes as they come up. Shiro’s arm comes around him again, like it had the morning after their first kiss, and Keith tries not to dwell on the idea of Shiro’s arm as something _he_ might be losing.

Besides, Keith would gladly give up his _own_ arm if it meant keeping Shiro safe and healthy and _alive_.

As the night wears on, and Keith feels himself further burdened under the weight of his emotional exhaustion, they creep under the covers until they’re horizontal and can barely even see the TV anymore. Now it’s just background noise, just flickering blue lights that paint Shiro’s beautiful face in odd shadows and reflect in his eyes as he gazes into Keith’s.

The room is stuffy; the air conditioning isn’t on, and Keith has no desire to get out of bed to remedy that, so he settles for taking off his shirt. Shiro does the same, and when they meet in the middle again, they’re flesh to flesh with only their boxers between them.

Shiro scoots closer. His hand settles at Keith’s waist. He touches their foreheads together and allows their noses to brush. Keith seeks out Shiro’s other hand under the pillow and threads their fingers together.

“What do you think I should do?” Shiro asks in the safe space between them.

“Whatever will make you happy,” Keith answers honestly. “Whatever happens, I’ll be here for you.”

____________________

They begin to practice going through life with one arm. At first, Shiro gets frustrated and cheats, giving up and using his arm anyway.

“Might as well use it while I’ve got it,” he says, but Keith knows he’s secretly irritated with himself for not being immediately perfect at it.

Keith pays close attention to him — closer than usual — making note of every sound of discontent, every twist of Shiro’s wrist, anything that might indicate that Shiro is in any way uncomfortable or needs to go back to the hospital. He’s sure it’s driving Shiro crazy, but Shiro allows it anyway.

The amputation is scheduled for three weeks after Shiro informs the doctor of his decision. It’s not much time to get used to the idea, and Shiro isn’t sure what it will mean for the rest of his semester or anything else going forward, but everyone in Shiro’s life, including Keith and Shiro himself, breathes easier knowing that Shiro will still get to the live a full life. He has to meet with several hospital staff, including everyone on his surgical team and several people who will help with his rehabilitation after.

Shiro goes through phases where he’s either totally at ease with his decision or a nervous, resentful wreck. His moods swing back and forth faster than Keith can keep up sometimes, but it’s to be expected, so Keith tries his best to go along with whatever Shiro needs. Sometimes that means he needs Keith close, super close, even when other people are around; sometimes it means he needs Keith to stay away so he can be alone for two or three days at a time. Sometimes, on the worst days, Shiro can’t go to classes, or get out of bed, or eat. On those days, sometimes he says he wishes he’d decided not to do it. He says he should just call the doctor and leave it alone, let himself waste away and die like God intended. Those are the days that have Keith shaking, furious and mourning the life of a man who’s still alive.

The big day comes too soon. Shiro’s parents are back to take Shiro to pre-op, and it’s clear that Shiro is trying to maintain his composure for them, even though Keith can see how scared he is. Since Keith isn’t family, he has to see Shiro off before they get there, since he won’t be able to visit Shiro until the next day, assuming all goes well.

“You’re gonna do great,” he tells Shiro while they grip each other in a moment of privacy. “You’re going to be amazing, and tomorrow when I come see you, I’m gonna bring you the most fattening, most delicious meal of your life. And you’re gonna eat it. And you’re going to love it.”

Shiro squeezes him close with both arms wrapped around him. Keith savors the feeling, memorizing every part of this moment and tucking it into the safest corner of his mind to preserve it forever.

“Keith, I’m not going to be able to exercise for like, months,” Shiro says.

Keith scoffs. “You can still run. I think.”

“Alright,” Shiro huffs around a laugh. “I’ll eat the big fattening meal. But only because you’re bringing it to me.”

There’s a long silence in which they just hold each other. Keith knows, reasonably, that there’s nothing to be afraid of. But he _is_ afraid, and if he’s afraid, then Shiro must be terrified.

“Keith,” Shiro starts, “I know this probably isn’t the right time to bring this up, but just in case—”

“No.” Keith pulls back to level Shiro with the best glare he can muster. “No ‘just in case.’ Everything is going to be fine. Whatever you need to say, tell me tomorrow.”

“Keith, come on—”

“No. Whatever you’re going to say, it can wait until tomorrow. When everything is over. And you’re not just saying it because you’re scared.”

They stay there for as long as they can, soaking each other in, surrounded by a loaded atmosphere that neither of them are in the right mind to decipher.

Eventually, Shiro’s father comes to take Shiro away, so with one last hug and a whispered, “See you soon” from Keith, Shiro goes.

Waiting is agonizing. He’d wanted to go to the hospital and sit in the waiting room with Shiro’s parents, but they’d insisted he stay home because he wouldn’t even be allowed to see Shiro after the surgery. Their reasoning was that if he’d have to come back tomorrow either way, he might as well wait where he’s comfortable.

His friends have gathered around him. They’re all hanging out in Shiro’s room, partly because it seems like the right thing to do, and partly because Hunk is stress baking in the hall kitchen, and the brownies really are better when they’re still warm and gooey.

Shiro has an N64, so most of the day is passed playing Super Smash Bros and Mario Kart, gorging themselves on whatever Hunk has the supplies to make on-hand, until late into the night when everyone really should be heading back to their own rooms to study or do something other than pretend they’re not just there to distract Keith.

After the trillionth round of losing to Ryan in Smash Bros, Keith collapses backward on the floor.

“I’m done,” he declares. “I can’t take anymore of this carnage.”

James has been in a sugar coma for the past hour, but he grunts something about that not being the only thing Ryan has wrecked today, and Keith really, _really_ does not need that mental image.

“Bet you know all about that, though,” James says.

Keith leans up just to lift an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“I’m just saying, big guy like Shiro...”

“What? No.” Keith sits up and looks around the room. Everyone is apparently super interested in this conversation. It feels super dirty to have it in Shiro’s room when Shiro isn’t even there. “What are you even talking about?”

Ryan exchanges a look with his boyfriend. “Oh, are you guys waiting or something?”

“Waiting...?” Keith feels like his brain is about to explode.

The others look at him in stunned silence. Romelle maintains intimidating eye contact while loudly munching on potato chips. Even Rolo and Nyma are paying attention to the conversation, and they actually seem interested for once.

“Dude, we all saw you sucking face at the party,” Rolo states. All around him, Keith’s closest friends in the world nod.

“Oh my god,” Keith says. “Are you—” He looks to James for help. “Don’t you think I would have told you if we were—” James just shrugs, as if he’s not Keith’s closest friend aside from Shiro. He whirls on Hunk next. “Seriously? We’re here all the time and you’ve _never_ seen us kiss. Hunk? Seriously?”

“I just thought you guys waited until I was out of the room or had my back turned or whatever...”

“We— he— Hunk, he’s been on _dates_.”

Hunk looks at him like he’s a moron. “Um, no he hasn’t, unless you mean with you.”

The world goes silent while Keith takes that in.

“What?”

“Keith, really? Shiro hasn’t been out with anyone in months. I’ve literally watched him turn down guys left and right. And I do mean literally. Like, turns down one dude then turns the other direction and has to turn down another one.”

“Oh.”

“Awww,” Nyma teases. “Keith doesn’t know he’s dating his boyfriend.” She high-fives Rolo, and Keith wonders how he ended up with these people for friends.

He must be flushed all the way down to this chest. “He’s not— we’re not— it was just a kiss! Not even— it was New Year’s Eve! Everyone kisses on New Year’s Eve!”

“Oh, so you guys kiss every year?” Romelle asks. Keith can tell it’s a genuine question. That just makes it worse when Keith hangs his head and mutters a quiet, “No.”

“Okay, you need to walk us through this.” James is sitting up and alert now, apparently over his sugar crash and ready to dissect Keith’s love life. “So you kissed one time and then, what, decided to just be friends?”

Keith thinks back to that night. He tries not to revisit it too much, tries not to let it fuel his longing, but he remembers it in vivid detail.

“No,” he says. “Not exactly. We just, I don’t know, there was glitter everywhere and he looked so... _Shiro_... and he was looking at me and then he said he wanted to kiss me, and I said okay, and then we just... kissed.”

Everything is on fire. It must be, because it’s the only thing that can explain why he’s so hot.

“And then?” James prompts.

“And then... nothing? We went to breakfast, came back here, went to sleep, and it hasn’t been a thing until now when you guys brought it up to torture me.”

Mercifully, nobody says anything.

Immediately.

Then all hell breaks loose as everyone bursts into speculation.

“Maybe Shiro thinks a kiss means they’re dating?”

“Can’t be that. Shiro’s kissed plenty of other guys.”

“Hey!”

“Maybe Keith’s just a bad kisser.”

“HEY.”

“Nah, that’s definitely not it.”

“Maybe Shiro’s a bad kisser.”

“He’s not,” Keith supplies.

“Okay, so they’re secretly dating and don’t want us to know about it.”

“If that’s true then Keith is a super good liar, and we all know that isn’t true.”

“Well I mean they’ve been sleeping together for months, right?”

“Oh my god, _why_ does everyone keep saying that? We’re not sleeping together!”

“Dude, I live here. You sleep together like, most nights.”

“We sleep in the same bed. We’re not _sleeping together_. Ugh, you all sound like my mom.”

“YOUR MOM KNOWS?”

The last part is a chorus, like everyone is yelling at him in surround sound. Keith drops his head into his hands and tries not to die. He still has to be there for Shiro when he wakes up tomorrow.

Which reminds him— he feels around for his phone, which fell out of his pocket sometime during the marathon video games, and checks for a message from anyone. There’s a message from Shiro himself, just five minutes ago, that says, a _ll ok._ Another one comes in while he’s looking at his phone.

_cant wait to see u_

Then another.

_hope you still like me lol_

It’s framed as a joke, but Keith understands that there’s real insecurity rooted in the sentiment. He must be exhausted and scared and feeling a million other things that Keith can’t even begin to fathom. It’s a struggle just to wrap his mind around the fact that Shiro no longer has an arm. Shiro went away with two arms earlier in the day, and now he’s texting Keith with the only hand he has left. Keith’s head hurts if he tries to think about it too hard.

He texts back, _Always. You’re perfect. Don’t forget it._

Shiro must fall asleep after that, because Keith doesn’t get another message for the rest of the night.

After a few more lackluster rounds on the N64, James, Ryan, Romelle, Rolo, and Nyma all take their leave. It’s late, and everyone has classes tomorrow, as much as they’d like to be able to put their lives on hold for Keith and Shiro.

“You staying?” Hunk asks while Keith wrestles with what to do.

He chances a glance at him, and Hunk doesn’t seem to be judging him. Still, it feels weird to stay here without Shiro. “I shouldn’t,” he says. “I don’t want to be in your way.”

Hunk just shakes his head. “You’re not in my way. As long as you’re not planning on staying up forever playing video games or blasting super loud emo music or whatever, you’re welcome to crash.”

Keith casts a longing look at Shiro’s bed. Going back to his own bed feels like a long and treacherous journey with no reward at the end.

“Are you sure?” he asks. “I’m gonna get up super early to go see Shiro. I’ll probably wake you up.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Hunk waves a dismissive hand. “I have to get up anyway to work on this problem set I’ve been completely neglecting. My alarm is already set for five.”

“Oh.” Keith blinks at him. He wasn’t expecting that response, but it makes sense. He’s been falling behind on his own work for the past couple of weeks, so he makes a note to catch up while Shiro is in the hospital for the next week or so. “If you’re sure it won’t be a problem...”

“Not at all, my friend. Besides, this’ll make it easier to send snacks for Shiro. I’ll pack some up tonight for you to take in the morning.”

Keith breathes a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Hunk. He’ll love them.”

He goes through Shiro’s drawers until he finds the comfy sweatpants and oversized t-shirt he’s looking for.

“Favorite outfit?” Hunk asks, and Keith thinks he detects a hint of a tease.

Saying yes is too damning, and saying no is a lie, so Keith just grunts and makes himself comfortable. He thinks he hears Hunk laugh, but he can’t be sure.

He’s not sure how long he spends tossing and turning and staring up at the ceiling before he’s finally able to fall asleep. Morning comes quickly — too quickly — and somehow, he ends up sleeping well past the time he’d planned to get up and go.

He promised Shiro a big, greasy meal, so he still has to hit up their diner before he can go to the hospital. He’s late, and there’s no time to do everything he’d planned, so he tucks Hunk’s offerings into his backpack with his laptop, yanks on his shoes, and pockets Shiro’s car keys. He calls in the diner order on the way to the parking lot so that it’s ready as soon as he arrives, and he makes it to the hospital only twenty minutes after visiting hours start.

“You’re late.”

Shiro’s voice is like a soothing balm on Keith’s wounded soul.

“Sorry,” he says, even though he can feel himself starting to grin. “Had to follow through on my promise.” He holds up the bag filled with styrofoam diner containers. “Hope you’re hungry.”

Shiro offers him a weak smile. He looks so tired and fragile. Keith isn’t sure how much of that is real, and how much it’s exaggerated by the hospital room and bandages.

Now that he’s close enough, he can see that Shiro’s entire right arm — what’s left of it, from just above the elbow — is completely covered in bandages. His brain struggles to reconcile the image he’s seeing with the one he’s used to. The empty spot where his arm should be seems wrong, like he’s just looking at Shiro from the wrong angle or something.

He must be looking too hard, or for too long, because Shiro shifts and pulls the blanket up over his right side. Keith wants to tell him not to hide, that he’s still exactly who he’s always been, but it’s not his place to tell Shiro how to feel, so instead he takes a seat by Shiro’s bedside and asks, “How are you feeling?”

Shiro sighs. “Tired,” he starts. “My arm hurts. Or my stump, I guess. Since my arm is gone.” He grimaces.

“Do you wanna eat?” Keith offers. “Are you hungry?”

Shiro’s stomach lets out a loud grumble.

“Guess so,” Shiro huffs. “What did you bring me?”

Keith begins pulling containers out of the bag. “Well, let’s see. There’s basically every meat on the menu: bacon, sausage links, sausage patties, corned beef hash, and city ham — I’ll eat the ham if you don’t want it — scrambled eggs with cheese, tomatoes, and green onion; grits, home fries, hash browns, and—” He saves the best for last, placing the last container directly onto Shiro’s lap. “—chocolate pancakes with chocolate chips, topped with bananas, strawberries, whipped cream, and more chocolate syrup.”

“Whoa.” Shiro’s eyes are huge, taking in the spread in front of him. “How much did all of this cost?”

“Don’t worry about the cost,” Keith chuckles. “I just wanted to do something for you. Oh! That reminds me.” He pulls out the plastic container filled with Hunk’s baked goods. “A gift from Hunk.” He places it on the nightstand for later.

“Oh man, you guys are really spoiling me,” Shiro says. “What’s the occasion?”

Keith levels him with an unamused look. “Ha, ha.” There’s a tray table near the foot of the bed, so he pulls that closer and piles it with takeout boxes. “Are you even allowed to eat this?” he asks after a few bites. Shiro is struggling a little with his left hand, but this is something they’d practiced before his surgery.

“I’m post-op now, Keith,” he says around a mouthful of eggs. “I don’t have to fast anymore.”

“Yeah but like, isn’t there a hospital rule against outside food or something?” He shovels a bite of pancakes into his mouth. They’re way too sweet for him, especially in the morning, but Shiro will definitely like them.

Shiro shrugs. “Hope not. Hospital food blows.”

Even after they’ve both eaten their fill, there are enough leftovers for another meal. Keith consolidates all of it to one box and sets it aside. He’ll let Shiro’s parents figure out what to do with it when they get back. Shiro seems to be in slightly better spirits, even though his energy is still low and he’s still trying to cover his bandaged arm.

Keith shifts where he sits. He wants to reach out to Shiro, take his hand or hug him or something, but Shiro looks so unsure of himself. He’s not sure how Shiro will take it yet, so he holds back. “So, uh, I meant to bring your laptop and stuff, but I woke up kinda late and didn’t manage to grab anything.”

“Is that why you’re wearing my clothes?” Shiro gives him an obvious once-over and smirks. Keith’s heart thuds.

“Yeah, sorry, I uh—” _slept in your bed without you last night?_ “I didn’t have any clean clothes,” he settles for.

Shiro raises an eyebrow at him. “I know that’s not true because you did your laundry this weekend. And I know I didn’t leave those at your dorm.”

He’s teasing. Keith _knows_ he’s teasing. But it’s also true, and he has no way to dispute it.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “It got kinda late, so I just...”

“Keith. I don’t mind.” Shiro smiles. “Actually, I think it’s sweet.” Is it Keith’s imagination, or is Shiro blushing? Over _him_? “And besides,” he says, fiddling with the sheet under his left hand, “you look really cute in my clothes.”

Keith is stunned. Shiro is looking at him, pink-cheeked and shy, and Keith doesn’t know what to do with any of this. Sure, things have been changing between them, but Keith still doesn’t know where Shiro stands with all of this. They’ve never _really_ talked about Keith’s feelings, either.

Is this the natural progression of their relationship, or is Shiro feeling insecure and clinging to a sure thing?

“Thanks,” he croaks. What is he supposed to do? “They’re comfortable.”

Shiro sighs. “Keith. Come here.” He pats the bed and squirms over to make space. His movements are a little awkward, not used to being unbalanced, and he cringes when he accidentally rubs his bandaged arm against the back of the bed, but he manages to create enough space for Keith.

“Are you sure?”

Shiro nods. Then his expression changes, becomes more guarded. “If you want. You don’t have to, obviously.”

“I want to!” Keith blurts, moving to join Shiro on the bed. He hovers for a second. “I just don’t want to hurt you.”

Shiro smiles fondly at him. “I think I can handle it. Come on.”

“What if the nurses come in and yell at me?” He’s already moving onto the bed, utterly unfazed by his own question.

“I’ll fight them,” Shiro says.

Shiro feels warm against him as he settles down. “My hero,” Keith coos. He settles into place, his head on Shiro’s shoulder and an arm tentatively draped over his waist.

“Still?” Shiro asks. He’s trying to make it sound casual, but it’s too tentative.

“Always,” Keith vows. “You’re perfect.”

“Do you really think that?” Shiro bores into him with big, imploring eyes. As if Keith would ever think anything else.

“Of course I do.” He sits up straighter so he can meet Shiro at eye level. “No matter what, you will always be perfect to me. You’re the best person I’ve ever known. I know I probably say that too much, and I’m sorry if it’s weird, but it’s true. You have no idea how amazing you are.”

“Keith?”

Shiro swallows. Keith can’t stop his eyes from dropping down to follow the motion of his throat. He snaps them back up to Shiro’s, still looking at him _like that_ , making Keith’s heartbeat kick up to double speed.

“Yeah?”

“Do you remember yesterday, when I was trying to tell you something, and you said I should wait and tell you when I wasn’t just saying it because I was scared?”

Keith nods.

“Well, I’m still scared, but there’s something I need to say.”

“Okay,” Keith breathes.

He can feel every individual beat of his heart. He can feel the blood flowing through his veins. He can feel the breaths being pulled through his lungs.

Is Shiro getting closer?

“Keith, I...”

Yes, he’s definitely getting closer. “Yeah?”

A long, tense moment stretches between them as they hover, close but not quite touching. He thinks maybe Shiro is waiting for him to close the gap.

But Keith is scared. There’s nothing in the world he wants more than this, but he needs it to mean something. And if there’s even a chance that this isn’t one-hundred percent real, then...

He pulls back just enough to get some breathing room.

“Shiro.”

Shiro opens his eyes. His brows knit together when he sees Keith.

“Sorry, I thought...”

“Shiro, I love you.” Shiro waits, eyes full of confusion. “I’ve loved you my whole life. And I think you know that.”

Shiro hesitates— opens his mouth, closes it, and nods.

“So if you don’t feel the same way, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

He can’t maintain the eye contact anymore. He feels like he’s flayed himself open, and now he’s waiting for Shiro to either sew him shut or rub salt in the wound.

Shiro seems to understand the weight of his next words. He takes his time to chew on them. It’s excruciating to wait.

“Keith,” Shiro says. He rests his hand on Keith’s thigh, heavy and familiar and not platonic-feeling. Keith’s hopes are so high that the fall might kill him if Shiro lets him down easy now. “After Adam and I broke up—” the name is like a slap to the face after so long, but Keith tries not to show it “—I didn’t know how to handle it. We’d been together for so long, you know? And it had _just_ happened, and I was trying out who I was without him. I wasn’t in the right place, mentally, to understand what it meant for you to have feelings for me. And I am so, so sorry for the way I reacted then.”

Shiro moves in closer again, touching his nose to Keith’s and making Keith audibly swallow. “It’s okay,” Keith says. His words shake on the way out.

“It’s not,” Shiro argues. “It was awful. I _still_ feel awful about it. And I don’t know if you know this, but I missed you _so much_.” His laugh is soft and disbelieving. “It actually kind of freaked me out how much I missed you. But I was heartbroken and angry, and I didn’t get it.”

He’s so close that Keith can practically feel him speaking. “It’s fine, Shiro. It’s in the past.”

“No, it’s not,” Shiro insists. “Keith. Please listen.”

“I, uh.” Keith forces himself to breathe. “I’m having trouble concentrating.”

Shiro huffs a fond laugh and pulls back. “Okay. Sorry. Better?”

 _No!_ Keith wants to shout. _Not better!_ He nods instead, because okay, yeah, it’s easier to hear what Shiro is trying to say when he’s not actively thinking about kissing him.

“I’m sorry,” Shiro says again, sincerity saturating his tone. “I wasn’t a good friend to you, at all.” The part of Keith that _has_ to defend Shiro wants to argue, but Shiro keeps going. “Things have been so good between us lately, and I just wanted you to know that I regret how I treated you back then, so much.”

He pauses, takes a deep breath, and nods that he’s finished.

“You never needed to apologize, Shiro, but I forgive you. I never meant to tell you how I felt. I knew what you were going through and how hurt you were. It was wrong of me to put my feelings on you when I knew you weren’t able to reciprocate. I’ve never wanted that. I just want you to be happy.”

“You know what’s amazing about you?” Shiro asks. Keith shakes his head. “I know you really mean that.” He shifts a little so that he’s facing Keith better and lets out a shaky laugh. “I want to, uh, tuck your hair behind your ear and touch your face and stuff, but—” he waggles his stump as much as he can, then winces. “—no arm, so.”

Keith sucks in a breath. They’ve cleared the air, sure, but that still leaves the question of what Shiro is feeling now. Of what this means.

“Why would you want to do that?” he asks.

“Because,” Shiro says, drawing out the word like a tease. “You’re beautiful. And it’s easier to kiss you when I can hold you where you won’t run away.” He says the last bit with a wink, in stark contrast to the blush that’s bloomed across his features. “If that’s something you’re interested in.”

“Shiro.”

“Hm?”

“I need to know.”

Shiro takes a deep breath and releases it. The hand on Keith’s thigh feels around until it finds Keith’s hand, and Shiro threads their fingers together. His entire demeanor changes to something more serious.

“Okay. What’s making you unsure?”

Keith hesitates before he answers. He knows what he needs to say, but he knows it’s not going to sound great when he does. He takes a few breaths to steady himself. His heartbeat is still hammering away in his chest, and it makes it hard to breathe or speak, but he has to push through. It’s time.

“I just don’t understand. What’s changed? Is it... is it because you think you can’t do better than me? Because you _can_ , Shiro. You can have anyone you want. You don’t have to settle for me just because you’re feeling, I don’t know, down or insecure or something.”

“What? Keith, _no_. No, never. Look at me.” He does. “I _can’t_ do better than you.”

“Yes—”

“No, I can’t, because there _is_ no one better than you. You’re number one.”

Keith isn’t sure what his face is doing, but he feels stunned.

“I’m so sorry if I ever made you feel like you’re not the greatest person in my life. You always have been. I was just too stupid to see it for a while. But this isn’t a decision I’ve come to lightly, Keith. It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a really long time.”

Suddenly, it dawns on Keith. “You kissed me on New Year’s.”

“I did.”

“So that wasn’t just a New Year’s kiss? That was real?”

“Yes. That was completely real. I’m sorry we never talked about it, but I just wanted to take it slow and not rush into anything.”

Keith’s head is spinning.

“What are you saying?”

“ _Keith_ ,” Shiro laughs. He reclaims his hand just to wrap it around Keith’s waist and pull him close again. “You’re impossible.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I love that about you.” Shiro nuzzles his nose against Keith’s cheek. “Please let me kiss you now. I’m dying.”

“You’re not—!”

“Figure of speech, Keith.”

Then he closes the gap between them, and Keith’s mind goes blank.

____________________

Shiro has to medically withdraw for the rest of the semester, which means he’ll be a semester behind Keith when it comes time to graduate, unless he makes it up in a summer session before then. He will, probably, but that’s for him to decide when the time comes.

Keith passes the semester, but not without some help from his professors. He missed a number of assignments and completely failed exams for two of his classes during Shiro’s extended stay in the hospital and subsequent physical therapy sessions, to which Keith drove him every single time to the detriment of his schoolwork. Most professors wouldn’t be so generous as to allow makeups for unscheduled conflicts, but they’re surprisingly understanding when Keith explains that he’s been helping his boyfriend through a limb amputation, since neither of them have family in town.

It goes without saying, when the time to renew their rooming assignments rolls around, that they opt not to renew with campus housing and instead find a place off campus, all to themselves. It’s small and has a weird smell, but it’s their first place as a couple, and therefore Keith’s favorite place in the whole world.

Krolia comes up to help them move into their new place. She teases them relentlessly about how gross they are around each other, and she’s right; they can’t keep their hands to themselves, and they have to stop every few trips for sweaty kisses.

Shiro has been fitted for a myoelectric prosthesis, which will eventually allow him to have five fully functional and independently-controlled fingers. The therapy for it is much more intensive than a body-powered prosthesis, and the arm itself will need to be charged frequently, but Shiro is optimistic. He’s been making amazing progress with it. The highlight of Keith’s week is watching Shiro learn and conquer his new arm.

It’s also significantly more expensive than its non-electric counterpart, but as luck would have it, Shiro was able to get into a test trial for a more energy-efficient model, funded by two graduate students at the university. Apparently, Allura is the one who came up with the idea for the project and is in charge of finding sustainable and efficient power sources, and Matt is helping with the programming and usability. They’re both extremely nice people, if not a bit strange, and though Keith didn’t love the idea of Shiro’s arm being designed by people barely any older than himself, the past few months have proven that they know what they’re doing.

With Shiro’s arm healing and everything else that’s been going on, it’s been hard to do much in the way of... physical intimacy— except for one overly-zealous blow job when Keith couldn’t stop himself the first time they were alone back in Shiro’s dorm, and a few steamy makeout sessions that more or less ended with their hands in each other’s pants, on the rare occasion that they didn’t have roommates to worry about. It’s been nice, though, in a way; they’ve had a chance to get to know themselves as a couple without jumping into the sex too quickly.

Now, though... Now, Shiro’s arm is healed enough that he can go about life as usual. And it just so happens that they have a whole apartment to themselves, no roommates, no relatives in town. And Keith wants Shiro so badly, he might explode.

Keith is twenty years old and ready to lose his virginity to the love of his life.

“Are you sure you want to put off the party until this weekend?” Shiro asks for the zillionth time. “It’s not too late to do something. I can still take you out.”

“Shiro, it’s _fine_ ,” Keith says, exasperated. “Nobody wants to go out on a Tuesday, and if we throw a party here, our neighbors are _definitely_ going to call the cops. I’d rather just wait and do something with our friends.”

“Alright,” Shiro sighs. “If you’re sure it’s okay. I just feel bad.”

Keith can’t help but laugh at his ridiculous boyfriend. “What could you possibly feel bad for? You took me half an hour out of town to the nicest seafood place around, let me order whatever I wanted, bought me flowers—” he holds up the bouquet of various red flowers “—and gave me a view of _that_ the entire night.” He gestures to Shiro’s entire being, dressed in closely-tailored slacks, a dress shirt rolled up to his elbow and pinned on the other side, and a waistcoat that Keith didn’t know he owned but has been giving Keith very dirty thoughts since Shiro first came out of their room wearing it.

“Ah, come on,” Shiro says, bashful and beautiful in his modesty. How he can still have no idea that he’s the most beautiful man in the universe, Keith will never know.

He finds a big enough pitcher to hold his bouquet and gets those settled by the kitchen window, then turns on Shiro. He takes his time stalking forward, like a cat cornering his prey.

Shiro waits, eyes glistening with amusement and want. He’s still pink-cheeked; he looks happy. Keith is happy, too.

“You knew what you were doing when you put this on,” Keith says, running a finger along the slant of Shiro’s waistcoat. “Where did you even get it?”

“Bought it from that tux rental place near campus while they were running prom specials,” Shiro says. At Keith’s raised eyebrow, he adds, “ _Oh yeah_ , I plan in advance.”

Keith laughs and pushes up to plant a lingering kiss on Shiro’s lips. “You’re such a dork.”

“You love me.” Shiro wraps his arm around Keith’s waist and pulls him close. Keith smiles up at him, heart full and senses swimming in Shiro.

He kisses him again. “I do.” He drags one hand up Shiro’s chest and hooks it behind Shiro’s neck while the other fiddles with Shiro’s belt loop. Keith pulls Shiro down to rest their foreheads together, and they stay there for a moment, just breathing each other in. “I love you so much,” Keith breathes. “More than anything.”

“I love you, too,” Shiro whispers.

It’s quiet in their apartment; only the sounds of breathing and the soft smack of their lips as they come together and pull apart again and again fill the silence. They’re pressed chest-to-chest. Keith’s fingers pet through the short hairs on the back on Shiro’s head.

The moment builds as Shiro pulls away from Keith’s lips to press kisses across his jaw and down the line of his neck. Keith feels himself swallow thickly, and Shiro follows with a kiss to his pulse point, thundering under his skin. The air is heavy and thick with anticipation.

“Hey, Shiro?” Shiro hums and continues lavishing Keith’s skin with sweet kisses. “How are you feeling?”

Shiro pulls back to look at Keith. He lifts an eyebrow in question, clearly confused by the apparent change in subject.

“I feel great,” he says. “Why?”

“Great like, no pain?”

“No pain,” he answers. He’s waiting to see where Keith is going with this.

“And you know how sexy you look tonight, right?”

Both of Shiro’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Not that I don’t appreciate the concern, but may I ask what’s gotten into you?”

Keith takes a long, deep breath, and steels himself to ask for what he wants. Intellectually, he knows Shiro will say yes. But that little nagging voice in the back of his mind still doubts, worries that Shiro doesn’t want him like that, and fears being rejected. But Shiro loves him, he reminds himself. He loves him as more than a friend. He’s taken great pains to make sure Keith knows that over their last six months together.

“I love you,” he says again. Shiro smiles and waits patiently. He’s always so patient. “And I’m...”

Shiro has always read him easily. He leans in for another kiss, long and soft and heart-fluttering in the way Shiro is when his sole focus is on Keith.

“What is it, sweetheart?” Shiro murmurs against his lips. “What can I do for you?”

And, well, Keith has never been good with words.

He reaches back to take Shiro’s hand, still on the small of his back, and pushes it down onto the swell of his ass. He feels Shiro’s lips turn up into a smug grin as he squeezes a handful and pulls him in closer.

“Mm, feeling frisky tonight?” he teases.

Keith nods, breathing heavily. “Yes.” He emphasizes his point by pressing his hips pointedly against Shiro’s. “Are you?”

“Yes,” Shiro answers immediately. “Are you saying...?”

“I want to have sex,” Keith blurts. “With you. Right now.”

For an agonizing few seconds, it looks like Shiro might spontaneously combust. Then Keith is being thoroughly devoured, and before he can recover he’s being pulled toward the bedroom. Warmth blooms everywhere. He’s absolutely giddy, practically vibrating with excitement and desire. Keith doesn’t hesitate to follow when Shiro drops back onto the bed, pulling him with him. He settles over Shiro and lets his instincts take over.

Shiro can’t seem to decide what he wants to do with his hand. It’s everywhere, fisting in Keith’s hair, sliding up and down his back, squeezing his ass. For Keith’s part, he isn’t doing much better. He feels a desperate need to touch Shiro everywhere, anywhere he can reach.

“Too many clothes,” he mumbles, frustrated with the lack of skin available to him.

Shiro laughs breathlessly. “Thought you liked me in these clothes.”

“Mhm.” Keith pulls back, reluctant but desperate. “And now I want you out of them.”

He gets to work on Shiro’s buttons — all of them — “Oh my god, why are there so many buttons?”

Shiro is working hard on Keith’s belt. Keith is just about ready to cut the damn thing off if it means getting them both naked faster.

“Keith.” Shiro’s voice comes out ragged like his breathing. “Okay, hang on, slow down.”

Keith stops fighting with Shiro’s ten trillion buttons to shoot him a bewildered look. “Slower? Than this?”

Shiro laughs. “Patience yields focus, Keith. Take your time and it’ll get done faster.”

Maybe it’s his dick talking, but Keith feels like he’s losing his mind. “That doesn’t make sense!”

“Yes it does,” Shiro says, always patient. He uses his own hand to pop the top two buttons of his shirt, since Keith had only managed to frantically undo his waistcoat. “See? Patience.”

“I’ll show you patience,” Keith growls. He sits back on his heels and pulls Shiro up, wrestling the waistcoat off and yanking Shiro’s shirt out of his pants and up and over his head. Shiro just laughs and lets himself be manhandled.

“You’re such a brat.”

“You love me,” Keith echoes.

“So, so much,” Shiro agrees. He finally manages to undo Keith’s belt. Keith helps, shucking his own shirt and working on Shiro’s pants. He sucks in a sharp breath when Keith’s knuckles brush his bulge. Keith smirks and does it again. “I’d call you a brat again but I really don’t want you to stop,” Shiro says.

Keith’s smirk spreads into a grin. He gets the belt unbuckled and the button and zipper undone. It’s as much as he can do while he’s still sitting on Shiro’s lap, but he’s loathe to leave his throne.

“I think you’re gonna have to get up if we want to keep going,” Shiro says.

Keith grunts. “Yeah, yeah.” He stands up and wrestles his own pants off. Shiro does the same, slightly less frantically but still quickly and efficiently. Then the socks come off, and all that’s left between them is two pairs of boxers.

Nerves linger between Keith’s arousal and excitement. It’s hard not to think about how no matter how much and how long he’s loved Shiro, and how badly he wants this, it’s still his first time. And okay, yes, he’s seen Shiro’s dick before — hell, he’s had it in his mouth for four glorious minutes — but he’s never had it, you know, _in him_.

“You okay?” Shiro asks.

Keith nods. Shiro’s voice soothes him, reminds him that he’s here because they’re in love, and it’s time to take the next step.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” Shiro asks, cupping Keith’s cheek and stroking his thumb across Keith’s cheekbone.

“Occasionally,” Keith says. Shiro smiles softly at the obvious lie. “You’re not so bad yourself.” He steps closer, pulling comfort from proximity.

“Thank you.” Shiro pulls him in for a kiss. This one is slower, less desperate, and it helps calm Keith’s fraying nerves. “Are you ready to keep going?”

Keith nods again. Shiro’s hand falls to his hip and thumbs at the elastic on his boxers. He hooks one finger inside, then another, then a third. He looks up at Keith through long, dark eyelashes. Keith reads the question there and nods again. Shiro pulls him in to kiss him while he pulls Keith’s boxers down over his dick, letting them drop when they fall below his ass. He doesn’t stop kissing him as Keith steps out of them, and then he’s completely naked with Shiro’s hand on his bare ass. His pulse is pounding. It feels like his heart is ready to come up through his mouth. His entire body is humming with the electric feeling of being naked and pressed up against his best friend.

Shiro pauses their kiss to ask, “My turn?” Keith slides both hands down Shiro’s back and keeps going, slipping them into his boxers.

“Nice,” he says. Shiro grins down at him.

“Oh yeah?”

“ _Oh yeah_.”

He gets Shiro’s boxers off, and then he can’t help it— he looks.

Shiro looks _unbelievable_ naked. They’ve been friends for a long time, so of course Keith has seen Shiro in various states of undress, but this is different. Keith doesn’t have to try not to look. This is Shiro naked _with intent_. This is Shiro baring himself for Keith, and Keith is allowed to look all he wants.

The last time he’d seen Shiro’s dick, Shiro had been on his back, completely dressed except for where Keith had pulled him out of his pants, and they hadn’t had any time afterwards to explore any further.

Now, with all the time in the world and in the context of Shiro’s fully naked body, it’s _incredible_.

“Um,” Shiro says, snapping Keith out of his daze. “Should we...?” He nods toward the bed.

Keith follows his lead, sitting on the edge of the bed beside Shiro and letting Shiro take the reins. He’s out of his depths now.

Shiro cradles Keith’s face in his hand and kisses him again, working them back up to the frenzied arousal from earlier. He pulls Keith on top of him as he lies back, pushing a knee between Keith’s legs and using his hand on Keith’s ass to help Keith grind against him.

They’re both panting, not kissing anymore so much as touching lips and sharing air.

The pleasure builds, heady and urgent, but it’s not enough.

“Shiro,” he moans, “I need you.”

“I’m right here,” Shiro says. “What can I do?”

“Fuck me,” Keith says. “Please.”

Shiro slows them down until it’s just Keith grinding against him, looking for release and not finding it. “Are you sure? We can stay like this.”

“I want you so badly,” Keith pleads.

“Okay,” Shiro says. “Okay, let’s do this. Let me get you off like this—” Keith absolutely _does not_ whine “—babe,” Shiro laughs. “Listen.” He stills them, lifting Keith’s chin so he’ll look Shiro in the eye. “Let me get you off like this, and then we’ll go for round two, and I’ll do anything you want.”

The edge Keith was chasing is fading, so he nods— _yes_ , anything to get back to what they were doing. Shiro huffs a laugh and kisses him, once again dropping his hand to Keith’s ass and egging him on. The grind of Shiro’s hips below him is intoxicating. It’s still not enough, so Keith works his hand between them and wraps his hand around both of them.

Immediately the added pressure has him gasping into Shiro’s neck. Shiro groans, and Keith feels Shiro’s fingers dig into the meat of his ass.

Keith jerks them both the way he jerks himself; it’s a bit awkward to get the hang of it, but once he does, he has Shiro squirming and panting beneath him.

“Just like that,” Shiro says. “Just—” He cuts himself off with a groan, and then his hips stutter and he’s coming in thick spurts onto his own stomach. Keith releases him and wraps his hand around himself, and then it’s quick business to finish himself on Shiro, encouraged by the sight of Shiro flushed and breathless and covered in his own come.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” he breathes, collapsed on Shiro, heedless of the mess between them. “That was intense.”

Shiro continues to catch his breath. He has his arm around Keith now, lazily holding him close.

“That was amazing,” Shiro says after a short while. They’re just lying together now, sharing air and skin and soft, lazy kisses.

Keith might be content to stay here all night, all week maybe, if not for the fact that he’s still itching to feel Shiro inside him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Shiro kisses his forehead sweetly, and despite all they’ve just done, it’s still that gesture of tenderness that makes Keith blush and his insides squirm. “I love you so much, Keith. I really hope you know that. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone.”

And Keith does know that, intellectually. He _gets_ that starting as Shiro’s lifelong best friend puts him a tier or two above the rest. But Keith is sometimes still the shy, insecure kid who needs to be told things; and somewhere, deep, deep down, buried below his surface-level insecurities, pushed down past the demons he tries his best to ignore, nestled into a corner of his heart that he tries to keep sealed shut, the idea that maybe Shiro would never love him like he did Adam once sprouted unwelcome roots, and he needs that reassurance from Shiro to uproot it.

So he swallows his pride and looks up into Shiro’s big, grey eyes, and asks, “Anyone?”

Maybe Shiro understands what he’s asking, or maybe he doesn’t, but his answer holds more surety than Keith’s ever heard from Shiro.

“More than _anyone_. I’m yours, Keith. Completely.”

With that, the rotten little seed uproots, allowing his heart to beat strongly for Shiro and for the years they’re going to have together. Keith doesn’t doubt anything about this. He knows — has always known — that Shiro is the person he’s destined to be with. It may have taken Shiro a little while to catch up, but Keith trusts Shiro with everything that he is, and if Shiro says he belongs to Keith, then Keith knows that it’s true.

He must look manic, the way he’s grinning at Shiro now, and he feels what might be tears of joy threatening at the backs of his eyes, so he does the only thing he can think to do and kisses Shiro with everything he has. Shiro smiles into the kiss too, maybe laughing at Keith a little, but he indulges him, just like he always does, and pours himself into it in kind.

It doesn’t take long for the kiss to turn from giddy and energetic to slow and sensual, and then deeper, filled with intent. Keith can feel himself slowly hardening again as the heat builds. Shiro shifts his hips a little, pressing his groin to Keith’s hip, and Keith can feel where he’s starting to come alive again, too.

“Are you sure you want to do this tonight?” Shiro asks again. Keith nods eagerly.

“Yes, god, yes, _please_ , I don’t want to wait anymore.”

Shiro smiles up at him, all gentle eyes and naked affection. “Okay, sweetheart.” He pushes Keith’s unruly bangs out of his eyes. “You want to bottom?”

Keith nods again, a little more bashful at the frank question, but still absolutely sure. Shiro presses a kiss to his lips and motions for Keith to get up so that he can stand, crossing the room to a bin by the makeshift TV stand, to which Keith has never paid much attention. Shiro is blushing as he brings it over, and it’s only then that Keith realizes he’s never seen what’s inside.

“You have toys?” he asks, dumbly.

Although Shiro’s cheeks are bright pink, he doesn’t seem embarrassed. He hands the box to Keith, which Keith takes as permission to look through it himself. There are a few run-of-the-mill things (Keith assumes; he’s never had toys of his own) — a couple of dildos, cock rings in three different sizes, and several partially-filled bottles of lube. There are also things with which Keith is less familiar, and is a little stunned and extremely turned on to find that Shiro has. There’s a string of plastic beads, each one bigger than the last; something black and curved that Keith soon figures out is a prostate massager when he accidentally makes it vibrate; a butt plug with a purple jewel on the end; and another dildo that nearly makes Keith’s dick explode when he realizes it’s shaped and wiggles like a tentacle.

“We could maybe play with that one another time,” Shiro says, watching Keith wiggle the dildo. Keith can’t help but burst into a grin.

“Shiro, are you a little bit of a freak?”

Shiro shoves him, but there’s no heat behind it as he grins back. “Shut up, you prude.”

“Who says I’m a prude? Maybe I like that you’re a kinky motherfucker.”

“I hope so,” Shiro laughs, “because it’s fun, and I might have ideas for you.”

The thought of Shiro using his toys alone already has Keith’s imagination running wild; the idea that Shiro thinks about using them _with Keith_ has him fully hard and throbbing. “So, uh.” His voice cracks, exposing how affected he is. He clears his throat. “Is this one good?” He pulls out the first bottle of lube his hand touches.

Shiro wraps his own hand around Keith’s, the one holding the bottle. “Keith, have you done this before?”

Keith tilts his head, giving Shiro a quizzical look. “What, sex? You know I haven’t.”

“No, I mean...” He pauses, giving Keith a look. When Keith doesn’t get it, he continues, “Have you ever, um, stimulated yourself? Uh, anally?”

Keith nearly chokes on his own spit. It’s a fair question, of course, but he’s still not quite used to the way Shiro is able to talk about these kinds of things.

“Uh. No.”

Shiro doesn’t judge. He smiles at him, encouraging as always, and takes back the bottle. “Maybe we should get you used to that feeling, then, before jumping right into this.

Keith scoffs. “How weird could it be?”

“Trust me,” Shiro says. “Just a little bit of foreplay. Most people _like_ foreplay.”

Keith agrees, mostly because it seems important to Shiro, and then he’s facedown on the bed with Shiro’s slicked-up finger circling his rim.

“Come on,” he urges. “Put it in.”

Shiro obliges, slowly sinking his finger into Keith’s hole.

It feels...

like...

“Feel okay?” Shiro asks. He pulls his finger out a little bit and then sinks it back in again. He starts up a rhythm, and though it feels good, it also feels...

Keith doesn’t know how to tell Shiro that it feels like he’s taking a very pleasant shit, so he just settles for, “Yeah.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Shiro says. Keith can hear the smile in his voice. “It’s weird at first, but just relax. You’ll get used to how it feels soon.”

“Okay.”

It goes on like that for a while. Keith tries to force himself to relax. His instinct is to clench around the thing inside him, but it does feel less weird the more he lets go. After a couple of minutes, Shiro starts to twist his finger inside. He pulls out and pushes in again at different angles, crooking his finger each time, and then, finally, he presses into a spot that tightens Keith’s gut.

“ _Oh_.”

“Oh?”

Keith shifts a little, making Shiro’s finger rub against his prostate again. “ _Ohhhh_.”

“Good?” Shiro asks, though Keith’s moans are likely answer enough. He keeps going, rubbing that same spot until Keith is putty on the mattress, and then he eases in a second finger. Keith lets out a filthy moan and squirms until Shiro is massaging his prostate again.

“Relax,” Shiro soothes when Keith tries to clench around him again. “Breathe.”

Two fingers feels even better, stretching him and rubbing against the sensitive skin. He’s starting to get used to the feeling of it.

“Still okay?”

“Yeah,” Keith says. “Really good.”

“Ready for more?”

Keith nods eagerly against the sheets. “Fuck me.”

Shiro starts to pull his fingers out, nice and slow. “Do you want to try a dildo first?”

Keith shakes his head. “Just want you.”

The fingers come out and Keith waits while Shiro gets himself situated. There’s some shuffling behind him; the bed sinks in a couple of different places around him, and he’s jostled a bit as Shiro moves around. Finally, Shiro stops moving, and there’s a silence before Shiro huffs what sounds like an aggravated sigh.

“Uh, Keith?”

Keith leans on his elbow to twist around to look at Shiro. “Yeah?”

“I don’t think I can do this with one arm.”

Keith’s heart sinks. “Oh.” He tries not to show his disappointment, but it’s obvious that Shiro can see it.

“I’m sorry, baby. We could try a different position?”

“If that’s okay,” Keith hedges.

“Of course.” Shiro leans down for a quick kiss. “Turn on your side.” He helps guide Keith how he wants him, slotting into place behind him. “Comfortable?”

Keith hums his assent and takes a deep breath. Shiro takes a few minutes to relax him again. He leaves gentle, fleeting kisses on the back of Keith’s neck and trails his hand over Keith’s chest and stomach. Keith lets himself close his eyes and feel Shiro behind him. Little by little, his shoulders drop. He’s happy and encompassed with Shiro at his back; it’s familiar, like spooning with his love every night.

Slowly, slowly, Shiro’s fingers trail down his chest, over his abs, past his hips. Shiro drags his fingertips through the wiry hairs there, teasing him. His light touches on the sensitive spots below Keith’s hip bones make Keith twitch with ticklish arousal, and it drives him _wild_.

He gasps and squirms, and when Shiro finally wraps his hand around him, he almost comes.

Shiro pulls him slowly, just enough to make Keith crazy but not enough to get him off. He drops kisses on the nape of Keith’s neck, his shoulders, and when he starts to suck a filthy hickey on the dip between the two, Keith can’t stop the shuddering moan that drips out of his mouth.

Shiro has to take his hand away from Keith’s dick to pull Keith’s leg up, but Keith immediately forgives him when he feels Shiro start to prod against his hole.

“Ready?” Shiro asks.

“ _Yes_.”

“Hold this.” He directs Keith’s hand to hold up his leg and uses his own hand to pull Keith’s cheeks apart as he starts to sink inside.

He’s _big—_ so much bigger than his two fingers, but it feels _incredible_.

“ _Shiro_ ,” Keith moans. He can’t help himself. There are so many noises falling out of him, some he didn’t even know he could make, and Shiro is panting behind him like he can’t get enough of it. Maybe he can’t. The idea that Shiro might be just as into this as Keith is intoxicating.

“Oh god, Keith, you feel so good,” Shiro pants. He keeps going for what feels like forever until Keith finally feels him fully pressed against him. Shiro’s breath is rough in his ear. “Let me know— when I should move.”

Shiro’s hand is back on Keith’s leg, smoothing up and down his thigh, squeezing every few seconds in time with Shiro’s audible swallows.

“Okay,” Keith says. “Okay, you can move.”

Feeling Shiro pull most of the way out is the sweetest kind of torture, and then he’s wrapping his arm around Keith’s waist and pushing back in again.

“Faster.”

Shiro obliges. He starts slowly but picks up speed, encouraged by Keith’s hitching breaths and punched-out noises.

Keith’s dick is throbbing. The repeated press of Shiro inside him against his prostate is almost too much, but Keith isn’t ready for this to end. It’s the best thing he’s ever felt.

The angle prevents them from going too fast, prolonging everything. Pleasure builds like a tsunami, long and slow at first, and then, at the breaking point, powerful and in sweeping bursts.

Keith comes with a shout, untouched. He’s starting to feel oversensitive with Shiro still moving inside him, and Shiro must know, because he tries to pull out. Keith stops him, begs him — “Inside, Shiro, finish inside me” — so Shiro picks up his pace, chasing his finish as quickly as he can. Keith keens, moans, can’t stop making all these _fucking noises_ because it’s almost uncomfortable, but in the most delicious way, and when Shiro finally comes hot and fast inside him, he thinks he might blow all over again.

Shiro doesn’t pull out right away. They lie together, just like that, exhausted and hot and sweating all over each other and the sheets. Keith has never been happier in his entire life. He can feel Shiro starting to soften, and still they stay together.

“You okay, baby?” Shiro asks. Keith wants to turn around and kiss him, but he doesn’t want to move yet.

“Amazing,” he says. “Thank you.”

Shiro’s laugh ruffles the sweaty hair on the back of his head. “You’re thanking me for fucking you?”

Keith grunts. “If you got fucked by you, you’d thank you, too.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Shiro argues lazily, though Keith can feel his smile and the way he nuzzles Keith’s neck. “I love you.”

Keith’s heart does a somersault. Even months after the first time he heard it, he still feels endlessly grateful that Shiro has chosen to love him. “I love you, too.”

“I hope you had a good birthday.”

“Best day of my life,” Keith says, and he means it.


End file.
